


Forbidden Desires

by VioletGreen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletGreen/pseuds/VioletGreen
Summary: Moriarty was bored. It was only supposed to keep him from being bored. That's why he went to John's clinic. Never could he foresee this. Having feelings for the doctor. It was madness. Yet he couldn't ignore the pull he felt towards John. It felt wrong but right. John didn't see his day turning out like this. Not with a visit from the consulting criminal himself. At first John didn't know what to do. That was until he felt something, a spark perhaps when Moriarty wrapped his arms around him. It felt strange but for some reason John didn't want him to let go. Like it was almost forbidden and yet John couldn't get enough. That was until the clinic was stormed with gunmen. John felt the urge to protect Moriarty however the Irishman knew it wasn't him that needed protecting. How far would Moriarty go to protect John and would John do so if Moriarty asked? And can Moriarty work with the Holmes brothers in order to save John from his fate? Hopefully the answer is yes but only time will tell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy my story. It took me some time to work on it. Let me know what you think.

It had been a long and tiring day at the clinic. John seen at least a dozen different patients that day, from six different children having the common flu to patients like little old Mrs. Hutchison, who believed she had the latest disease the news media reposted on. It took everything within John not to roll his eyes. He checked her over, giving her a clean bill of health and sent her on her way. John was about the leave for the day when Sarah stopped him.

“You have one more patient, John,” she informed him.

John sighed. “Couldn’t someone else…”

“He asked specifically for you,” she replied.

John’s brow furrowed questionably. Why would someone what him? “Did he give a name?”

“Jim,” she said. “He’s in room 8B.”

John wanted to argue but he knew it was a mute point. He just wanted to go home but he also had a job to do. “Yeah, alright,” John grumbled as he turned back and headed for the room. He stopped in front of the door, holding the patients chart in hand as he opened the door and said, “Hello, I’m Doctor John Watson and you must be…” John’s breath caught in his throat. He eyes grew wide as the chart fell from his hands and onto the floor _. No it couldn’t be_ , John thought panicky to himself.

There sitting on top of the examining table was none other than the criminal mastermind himself, James Moriarty.

Moriarty smile wide as he saw the fear on John’s face. “Hi, Johnny boy,” he said in a sing-song tone, “Long time, no see.”

John froze, mulling over his options of what to do here. He could call Sherlock but decided against it because he didn’t want his flat mate anywhere near this psychopath. Then he thought about calling Mycroft but again there was no telling what Moriarty would have set in place. There could even be a bomb in this building without anyone’s knowledge. John couldn’t take that chance. Instead he swallowed hard as he chose to quickly close the door behind him. “What the bloody hell do you want?” He snarled.

“What?” Moriarty said with frown. “No friendly greeting for a new patient?”

John’s frown deepened. “You’re not my patient.”

“Oh? Well, maybe that nice Doctor Sarah would be more suitable? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I know I wouldn’t,” Moriarty mused.

“You stay the hell away from her,” John warned, even though he knew threatening the Irishman was probably the worst thing he could possibly do.

Moriarty clapped his hands together. “You it is then,” he said happily.

John stared at him warily. “Why are you here, Moriarty?”

Moriarty wrinkled his nose as he said, “First off, we’ve known each other for a little while now. Don’t you think we can be a little more intimate with first name bases?”

“Sure, why the hell not? It’s not like you strapped a bomb to me or anything like that,” John spat sarcastically.

“Such big words from a tiny man,” Moriarty said.

“I assure you my bite can be just as deadly as my bark,” John snarled.

Moriarty smiled wickedly as he cooed, “Oh, without a doubt in my mind, Johnny boy.” More than anything he wanted to explore that side of John. He knew the doctor could take a life just as easy as he could save another. There was so much to the man that Moriarty started to see. He wanted to get to know the man and that was the reason for his little visit. However, he would never fully admit that to anyone. This was it would be more fun for him to watch John squirm. “Secondly,” Moriarty said, choosing to ignore John’s outburst. “I decided I needed a check up,” Moriarty said bluntly.

John wasn’t sure he heard the madman right. “You what?”

Moriarty rolled his eyes. “Don’t be boring, Johnny.”

 _You wouldn’t like me when I’m bored_ , came to John’s mind, causing him to shudder.

“Like I said before, I need a check up and what better doctor is there than you?” Moriarty said.

“There are hundreds better than me that are farther away from this clinic,” John huffed.

“Yes, but I don’t trust them,” Moriarty pouted.

John snorted. “And you trust me?”

“Of course I do. Because, you know who I am and what I’m capable of. You’d never lie to me,” Moriarty purred, wiggling his eye brows. “Would you, Johnny?”

John rolled his eyes. As much as he hated to admit to it, Moriarty had a point. “Alright, fine. But, afterwards I want you to leave. Got it?”

Moriarty made an X motion over this heart and said, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

John really wanted to help the Irishman with the hope to die part. Instead he said, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Suit yourself.” Moriarty shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it neatly behind him. Next he removed his tie and thought a few different scenarios he could use it for on John. Instead he placed it on his jacket behind him and started to unbutton his shirt.

John rubbed a hand over his face as he turned his gaze away. “What are you doing now?”

“Getting undressed,” Moriarty said simply.

“But…why…” John stammered.

“Well, you need to check me over, correct? This is the fastest way in order to do that.” Moriarty said. He studied John for a moment and realized the doctor wasn’t looking at him. He tilted his head slightly to one side when a thought suddenly accrued to him. Moriarty’s smile became predatory. “What’s the matter, Johnny boy? Am I making you uncomfortable? You’ve seen this type of stuff before.” He finished unbuttoning his shirt and slipped it off, leaving only this white wife beater. “You are a soldier and doctor after all.”

“Yes but none of my other patients tried to kill not only me but my best friend,” John bit out, still not looking in Moriarty’s direction.

Moriarty took the opportunity to slowly slide off the table, making little sound as possible so John wouldn’t turn around. “And yet you haven’t called your master to come fetch me nor have you decided to run.” He stepped up behind the good doctor, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and pulling his body’s against Jim’s own. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’d like having me around.”

John gasped when he felt Moriarty’s body press against his back side. It was almost impossible to ignore the madman’s excitement. “It’s not that at all. I don’t want you blowing up this building with the people I care about inside.”

“Who says it would be this building?” Moriarty purred into John’s ear.

John shivered at Moriarty’s breath ghosting over his ear. He tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. “You’re insane.”

“And you smell good enough to eat,” Moriarty mused.

John spun around in Moriarty’s hold. It was impossible to ignore how fit and toned Moriarty really was under those suits. With only his wife beater and dress pants on, this was the most dressed down John had ever seen the Irishman. John briefly wondered why Moriarty decided to hide it under his suits. He looked so beautiful.

Moriarty could read John’s thoughts like an open book. “Like what you see, eh Johnny boy?”

John glared at him as he spat, “Go to hell.”

Moriarty lifted his hand and gripped a hand full of John’s sandy hair, keeping the good doctor from flinching away. “Only if you agree to ride shotgun, pet.”

“I’m not a pet,” John bit back. He wanted to pull away but something about Moriarty’s intense gaze kept him right where the madman wanted him. He was like a fly trapped in a spider’s web with no hope for escape.

Moriarty chuckled. “Yes, you are,” he cooed as he slowly leaned forward, licking his lips he added, “And now you’re…”

The door to the room was thrown open and in rushed two men with guns. One had a slim build, with dark hair and five o’clock shadow. The other one was a little huskier, with shady hair and tattoos on in neck and arms. Both of them didn’t look to be older than twenty-five years old. Out of instinct John shifted his body so now he stood between Moriarty and the gunmen.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Moriarty whispered into John’s ear.

John rolled his eyes as his body went into soldier mode. He wanted to tell Moriarty that he didn’t care what happened to him but he did care about other innocent lives. So, if Moriarty did have a bomb hidden somewhere, John didn’t want it to go off if something should happen to the criminal mastermind.

“Let’s go, doc,” the one with tattoos snapped. “You and your boyfriend need to join the others.”

John felt the heat in his cheeks blossom with embarrassment as he stammered, “He’s not…I’m not…”

Moriarty wrapped his arms around John’s waist from behind. “Please, don’t hurt us,” Moriarty whimpered, playing the part of the victim a little too convincingly.

However, John wasn’t buying it. He wanted to push the madman away but with any sudden movement there was no telling what might set these two off. John couldn’t risk that. So, for now he would just need to play along as James Moriarty’s boyfriend. _Wow, there’s a thought I’d never dreamed I have_ , John thought bitterly to himself.

The two gunmen shared a glance before tattoo’s said, “We aren’t gonna hurts ya just as long as you corporate.” He waved with his gun toward the door. “Come on, doc. Start movin’.”

John pulled Moriarty’s hands apart from around his waist and guided the Irishman to stand at his right side so his body acted like a barrier. If there was a way for him to get at these two without causing Moriarty or himself to get injured then it would be worth a try. However, it was a little hard for John to concentrate with the master criminal’s body pressed against his own. He felt an odd sort of spark that he’d never felt during the war or when he was with Sherlock. This was different and new. Something that felt forbidden but somehow right. John shook his head of such nonsense because he felt like he was being an idiot and if Sherlock were around he would tell him as much. When they were slowly walking by the gunmen, John was about to make a move when he snapped back to reality of who was hanging off his arm.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Moriarty whispered to him.

“Why? Are they yours?” John hissed back.

Moriarty looked back at him the same way Sherlock would have if John would have said something that would be concerned completely idiotic. Right now John wanted to punch the Irishman in the face. “Really, Johnny? Do give me the benefit of the doubt here. If they belonged to me, do you think I’d have them pointing a gun at me? Me? No, I wouldn’t. Besides, I’d make this much more exciting.”

“Just like Sherlock. Always got to be dramatic,” John huffed.

Moriarty stopped which forced John to stop. John was looking between him and the gunmen and he wasn’t entirely for sure which one he preferred to deal with more. _Probably the gunmen_ , John thought to himself. It seemed that Moriarty wasn’t too happy with John’s previous remark. So, the other part of him wanted to take on the two gunmen and he knew he could. Since being with Sherlock, John had gotten back to hand to hand combat to fight against their suspects. Some of the time John wished Sherlock would wait for Lestrade but then again Sherlock would point out that the suspect would get away if they didn’t intervene. At those moments John wanted to strangle the detective but secretly he was having fun as weird as that sounded.

John could tell that by now the two gunmen were getting impatient. He leaned over to Moriarty and said, “Moriarty…”

“Jim,” Moriarty corrected him, loud enough for the two gunmen to hear him.

John sighed. There was no time for him to argue sense it would fall on deaf ears anyway. “Jim, we need to do as these two men ask us. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“But, darling,” Moriarty began, one side of his mouth curling up in a half smirk. “If you would just listen to me for one second I would tell you I’d be a very well place distraction as you go for tattoo’s gun. Grab onto it tight with both hands and head-butt him. He’ll stumble back, releasing the gun which will give you the upper hand. Then you’ll use the end of the gun to knock him out by hitting him in the face. Next slim shadow over here will have recovered enough to charge at me. That’s when you’ll close line him from the side, straggled him and punch him out.”

The two gunmen started to laugh as the taller man said, “And what makes you think you or your boy toy could over power us?”

Moriarty smiled as he kicked the taller man in between the legs as hard as he could. The taller man went down like a tree falling in the woods. “Like that.”

“Rusty,” Tattoo’s exclaimed. He rushed to his partner’s side.

“Get them, Pete,” the taller man hissed threw gritted teeth.

Rusty turned and stormed towards Moriarty. That’s when John acted fast.

John grabbed onto Pete’s gun just as Moriarty had instructed him. He pulled his head back and thrusts forward, his head connected with the other man’s. It forced Pete to stumble back just as Moriarty had described.

“Oh, you fucking little…” was all Pete got out before John use the blunt end of the gun, jabbing it into the gunman’s face. Pete went down hard, out like a light before he hit the ground. John was smiling proudly because he’d taken down a man larger than him. However, his victory was short lived when heard Moriarty call out to him.

“Johnny.”

John turned to see the taller man Rusty was on his feet and rushing at Moriarty. It only took seconds for John’s mind to calculate if he used the gun he had a chance of missing and hitting Moriarty. That wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. John dropped the gun and rushed at the other gunman, tackling him before he’s reached the Irishman.

The two men struggled until John was able to gain the upper hand. He straddled Rusty but he still couldn’t pull his arms away. It only took a second more for John to decided his next course of action. He pulled back and thrusts his head forward which connected with Rusty’s nose, causing a rather unpleasant cracking sound.

“My nose,” Rusty whimpered. He covered his nose with his hands but the blood was flowing like water out of a faucet.

John stood to his feet, panting hard as he moved over next to Moriarty. “Well, I guess you were right about everything with one exception.”

“Oh, really?” Moriarty said, arching an eyebrow. “Do enlighten me.”

John smirked as he said, “I didn’t punch him.”

Moriarty snorted as he said, “Indeed, you didn’t. Which makes me slightly flawed, doesn’t it?”

John shook his head. “No, it makes you a little more human.”

Moriarty opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut. He wasn’t for sure how to reply to that. No one, but no one, has ever looked at him as anything but a power hungry monster with a brilliant mind. Yet, standing before him was this ordinary looking man, a good man with a warm heart and who helped people on a daily bases. Two totally opposites and yet they fit like night and day. Moriarty stepped closer to John again. He smirked as he said, “You are quite the puzzle, Johnny. One I liked to take a part, see how you work and then put back together the way I feel you should be.”

A shiver went down John’s spine at Moriarty’s words. The last thing he wanted was to be kidnapped by Moriarty again. “I…uh…”

Moriarty placed a finger over John’s lips as he said, “I wouldn’t do that to you. Not this time. This time it must be of your own free will, Johnny. To make this work you and I need to start over. Forget everything else and focus on now.”

“How can I forget what you did when you…” John’s words were cut off by Moriarty’s lips suddenly pressed against his own. John froze because that was the last thing he’d except from the Irishman. But, the more Moriarty tried to coax him into kissing back the harder it was becoming for John to fight it. Finally, John couldn’t take it and he started to kiss back. It was heated. Neither man could get enough of the other.

That was until they heard a voice say, “Well, well, Doctor Watson. I didn’t know you fancied our team.”

The two of them pulled apart and looked towards the door. Stepping into the room was a man that had the same height and build as Sherlock, with dark hair and dark green eyes. He was wearing tackled gear like he was ready for combat. He also held a gun in his hand along with two other men who stood behind him. The man looked down at his other two henchmen on the floor and looked back up at John. “I knew you’d be a handful but this…” the man chuckled as he continued, “I didn’t think you’d have it in you. But, with protecting your boyfriend I now know your pressure point.”

John frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that and took the opportunity to step in front of Moriarty, using himself to shield the Irishman from the man who clearly seemed to the leader of this group. John was curious as to why this man was here. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, doc,” the leader said. “Any criminal such as myself would have heard about you.”

John’s brow furrowed. He didn’t understand what the criminal was talking about. Why would he be important to anyone? He wasn’t anything special, just an ex-army doctor trying to make a living.

The leader could see the questioning look on John’s face and said, “Let me spell it out for you, doc.” He smiled wickedly then and John felt a chill run down his spine. “Sherlock Holmes.”

John signed dramatically. _Of course this is about Sherlock. It’s always about bloody Sherlock_ , John thought irritatingly to himself.

“Not always about him, pet,” Moriarty whispered into John’s ear.

John did his best to ignore the Irishman behind him.

“You know,” the leader said, snapping John’s attention back to him. “Most of us thought you were even dating the man. But, as I can see now, I was wrong.”

“I’m not…we aren’t…oh what’s the point,” John huffed. They did interrupt them while he was snogging the Irishman. It wasn’t like he could lie about it.

“However, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because…”

“Uh Vince, we have a slight problem,” one of the other henchman said.

“What is it now, Brent?” the leader now known as Vince snapped.

“There are coppers outside and one of them wants to talk to you,” Brent said.

“What? How? We were supposed to have more time before…” Vince turned to John, narrowing his eyes at him. “You.”

“Me?” John said, seemingly surprised. “I couldn’t have. I was dealing with your goons.”

“Then…” He looked over at Moriarty.

Moriarty smiled back at him as he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. “In all the madness I must have pocket dialed,” he said, trying to play dumb.

“Toss me your phone. You to doc, and if you try anything I’ll shoot your boyfriend in the leg,” Vince warned.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” John grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Vince asked.

“Nothing,” John huffed as he took out his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it over to Vince. Moriarty did the same.

Vince placed both phones in his pocket for safe keeping. “Now, that’s out of the way.” He turned back to his henchman and said, “Bring me the phone.”

“Yes, sir,” Brent said, disappearing from sight.

Vince turned back to John and said, “Why don’t you two help my men to their feet? And doc, fix his nose or I’ll make sure your boyfriend’s nose will need plastic surgery to fix it.”

“Alright,” John retorted. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”

“What about the others?” Vince asked. “Can I hurt them?”

“Others?” John said, eyebrows arching in surprise. That’s when it finally hit him. It was when Rusty and Pete first entered the room. They wanted them to join the others. Others as in other hostages, which meant that it wasn’t just John and Moriarty who they held captive. That was a bit not good.

“Yeah, there are a few of the nurses, a few patients and three other doctors. I’m sure one is the head of this clinic. Maybe I should be talking to her instead of you,” Vince said as he turned and started to walk out of the room.

John panicked. He didn’t want this man anywhere near Sarah. Not after what happened last time they were kidnapped. “No, wait. I’ll do anything. Please, just don’t.”

Vince stepped back into view, a predatory smile playing on his face. “Anything, doc?”

“Bad choice of words, Johnny,” Moriarty whispered into his ear.

John swallowed hard. This wasn’t at all how he saw his day going. All he wanted was to be back in his flat, with a cup of tea in hand and watching crap telly. But, no. This was his life when living with the world’s only consulting detective. Everyone either loves you or hates you. There was no in-between. “Why don’t I fix these gents up for you?”

Vince’s smile softened a little but his eyes still were intense and focused. “Sounds good to me, doc.” He picked up the two guns that still lay on the floor and handed them to the other gunmen. He then turned to John and said, “But, I think I would prefer if your boyfriend joined the others. It would be less chance of him getting hurt.”

The last thing he wanted was for Moriarty to leave his side. Not that he felt afraid to be alone with them but he feared what crazy arse plan the Irishman would come up with so they could over power these men. There seemed to be five here and more than likely another one who was watching over the other hostages. John turned to look at Moriarty who seemed just as conflicted about leaving him alone as he felt. John understood and gave the Irishman a single nod before he turned back to Vince. He straightened himself, standing tall like a soldier as he said, “No can do. He is my nurse and he will aid me in helping your men. Otherwise just take us to the others.”

Vince nodded and said, “Very well, doc. He can stay. Now, get to it.”

John and Moriarty walked over to Rusty, helping the man to his feet. The henchman’s nose was in fact broken and needed to be set. They walked him over to the examining table. Moriarty quickly removed his shirt, jacket and tie, hanging them on a nearby chair so they wouldn’t get blood on them or wrinkled. John pulled some rubber gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. He then stepped up to Rusty and said, “This is going to hurt like hell but I’ll give you some pain killers just as soon as the blood stops.”

Before Rusty had time to respond, John took hold of his nose and popped it back into place. Rusty screamed in pain.

John turned to Moriarty and said, “In the bottom drawer should be some towels. Get me one.”

“Yes, doctor,” Moriarty cooed in response. He turned and bent over, willingly his hips a little bit, hoping to tease John. When he turned back he caught John staring at him then quickly adverting his gaze. Moriarty smirked knowing he’d bested him. “Here,” he mused, holding out the towel.

John reached out to take it from the Irishman’s hand. As their fingers gently touched, it sent a spark through John’s hand, up his arm, and into his chest. It wasn’t strangest thing but John quickly wrote it off as nothing.

That was when Brent returned with the phone.

Vince placed the phone to his ear and said, “Oh, no. That was one of mine screaming, Inspector. You see one of the hostages got a little carried away but isn’t hurt.” There was a pause. “You want to speak to him to be sure. How about I put you on speaker?” Vince pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the speaker button. “Go ahead, Inspector.”

“This is Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Who am I speaking with?”

John closed his eyes. Dreading that it was Greg he had to speak with because Sherlock wouldn’t be too far behind. However, it was also a good thing because it meant Greg would do all he could to get everyone out alive. “Greg, it’s John.”

There was silence for a moment before Greg asked, “Are you alright, John?”

“I’m fine,” he said then added, “For now. Listen, there might be about a dozen or so hostages in the building. I’m not within view of them so please don’t do anything foolish.”

There was more silence before Greg said, “Understood, John.”

Vince hit the button, taking Greg off of speaker and placing it back to his ear. “Now, that’s over with I want a chopper sent here and placed on top of the roof in the next twenty minutes.” There was another pause as Vince listened to Greg’s words. He didn’t seem pleased. “No, if it’s any longer than that I’ll start shooting hostages, starting with the doc’s boyfriend. Now, get it done.” Vince hung up the phone. He looked over at John and smiled. “Seems your best friend wasn’t too happy. I could hear him ranting in the back ground. Nice that you’re so concerned for everyone’s safety, doc. But, is he?”

John knew Sherlock was out there and standing beside Greg. That’s why he stated to not do anything foolish because he’d get himself hurt or worse. John wasn’t prepared for that. “He’ll do as I say. He isn’t that foolish.”

Moriarty leaned forward and whispered, “Even I know better than that, Johnny. One way or another he’s going to try and rescue you. It’s what he does, after all. You are his damsel and he your knight.”

“I’m not a bloody damsel who needs saving,” John spat at Moriarty.

“Are you sure, Johnny? Because from where I’m standing it seems this criminal has a hidden agenda.”

John’s brow furrowed. He wanted to ask which criminal Moriarty was referring to but instead he asked, “Which is what?”

“I’m not sure but I don’t think he’s taking that chopper ride alone,” Moriarty said.

That’s when the panic started to set in. John hadn’t seen it before. These men hadn’t asked for anything. Hadn’t demanded any drugs and yet they were here with guns. Why? John closed his eyes when he realized it was because of him. They were here for him. He opened his eyes and looked at Vince. “You’re here for me. Why?”

Vince was watching one of his other henchman Derek help Pete to his feet. He had a black eye and a headache but overall he would be fine. “That is classified information, doc.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” John hissed as he stepped closer to Vince. He felt Moriarty grab onto his arm to try and hold him back. Or possible ground him. Which in itself was an odd thought but John pushed that aside for later. “Tell me why.”

Vince studied him a moment before he said, “Because my employer pays handsomely for my abilities to extract targets from impossible situations. You are a very hard man to get close to, doc. With the Holmes brothers watching you 24/7, it was almost impossible but here I am. So, after the chopper gets here. You and I will take a ride which should be in about,” he looked at his watch and added, “Thirteen minutes. So say your goodbyes to your boyfriend because you won’t be seeing him again.”

John turned to Moriarty and felt an odd sort of warm spreading through him. He felt a slight fondness for the man, which was odd giving what the man stood for and what he’d done. However, at the moment John didn’t much care because there was something about the Irishman, something John couldn’t place. All he knew was he didn’t want this to be it. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

Moriarty could see it in John’s eyes. The sorrow of this being the end even before it would begin. He leaned in close and said, “This isn’t the end, Johnny. I won’t leave a stone unturned. I’ll find you.”

John leaned his forehead against Moriarty’s as he whispered, “Promise?”

Moriarty made an X motion over his heart and said, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

John smiled as he leaned in and gently kissed the Irishman on the lips. Slowly he pulled back and looked into those dark chocolate eyes. He could get lost in those for ages. “Don’t drive Sherlock to crazy, yeah?”

Moriarty chuckled. “No promises on that one.”

John softly chuckled as he said, “Jim.”

Moriarty felt the heat pool down below with John speaking his name so sensual. “John.” He was about to go in for a deeper kiss when John was ripped away from him. The henchmen pulled them apart and Moriarty was furious. However, he kept up with the persona of being a scared and weak man. He just needed to find the right moment to fight back and win his Johnny over for good. He could do it.

“Come on, doc. Time to go,” Vince said. “Tie his boyfriend up.”

Moriarty’s heart sank. He was going to lose John even before he had him. He couldn’t let that happen. There had to be something he could do. “No. Johnny.” He was struggling to free himself but Rusty and Pete tied him to the table using his tie.

“Look what we got here, Pete.”

“I know, Rusty. Pay backs a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Isn’t it?”

Both men turned to see none other than Sherlock Holmes standing in the door way, pointing Greg’s gun at them.

“What?” Rusty asked.

“The phrase is ‘Isn’t it’ not ‘Ain’t it’. It seems proper English passed you by a long time ago, which would makes sense giving the state you’re in. I do believe Doctor Watson is the one to thank for your broken nose and shiner. Given the circumstances I’m surprised that’s all he’d done.”

“For Christ sakes Sherlock, shut it and help me,” Moriarty said.

“Help you with what? Seems you’re doing a fine job on your own,” Sherlock replied.

“Oh, what makes you think he is?” Pete asked.

Moriarty pulled as hard as he could and managed to only free himself from the table but not his hands. They remain bound as he took that opportunity to once again kick Pete hard between the legs. He also kicked Rusty and both men fell hard to the ground. Sherlock rushed over to Moriarty and untied him. “Took you long enough,” Moriarty huffed, jumping off the table.

“I had to find my way inside without anyone seeing me. It wasn’t easy,” Sherlock replied.

“I would have done it before John was taken up to the roof,” Moriarty said, picking up a gun and heading for the door.

Sherlock rushed after him. “Well, let’s go get him.”

Both men rushed out of the room and over to a door that was marked “Stairs.”

“I want to know why you were here,” Sherlock said.

Moriarty ignored him as they took the stairs two at a time. “Hurry, there isn’t much time.” Both men continued upward, hoping they would stop Vince before John was taken for good. When they finally got to the roof’s door Moriarty grabbed the door handle and said, “Ready?”

Sherlock nodded once and both men stormed onto the roof.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. More to come.

For a good part of the morning, Sherlock had been sitting in the lab at St. Bart’s, staring through a microscope at some new samples he’d just inquired when Molly walked over to him. She sat down a cup of coffee next to his notebook. The detective made a small humming sound in the back of his throat to indicate he was grateful to her for bringing it to him.

Molly smiled as she stood there feeling slightly awkward.

Sherlock looked at her from the corner of his eye and sighed. Pulling back from the microscope he’d been looking into, he turned his attention to Molly and said, “Something on your mind?”

“Now, that you mention it, yes,” Molly said, a little too fast. “I didn’t know about him. He seemed nice and I just. I’m sorry if he…if John…I didn’t know.”

Sherlock slowly stood to his feet, stepping into Molly’s personal space. He placed a hand under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Molly. Moriarty is genius and...”

Molly glared at him. “Are you calling me an idiot, Sherlock? Because if you are…”

Sherlock placed a finger over her mouth to quiet her. “Moriarty even fooled me. He held all the cards and I let my arrogance and pride of being smarter shield me from the truth of it all.” Sherlock turned away from her then. It was hard for him to admit defeat. He continued to replay that moment over and over in his mind. Being at the pool, seeing John and feeling that moment of betrayal of the only person he’d cared about bested him. But, no. That wasn’t the case here. When John revealed he was the fifth pipe, Sherlock felt like he was going to lose him. He cared about John so there was only one way out, which would stop Moriarty at the same time. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. But, Sherlock felt there would come a day when Moriarty would be back to finish what he started. By then Sherlock would be ready. “No need to dwell on it, Molly,” he said as he turned his attention back to her. “There will come a time when I’ll catch Moriarty and then it will be all over. I’ll beat him.”

“Sherlock, this isn’t a game,” Molly said. “Not anymore. Lives hang in the balance. People you care about and those who actually care about you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Molly,” Sherlock snapped. “I know this isn’t a game. Not anymore anyway. He tried to…” Sherlock let his voice break off then. No one but Greg and Mycroft knew what happened that night. They didn’t want anyone else to know that Sherlock and John were going to kill themselves to stop Moriarty. It wasn’t something that needed to be said. “I will stop him for good.”

Molly was about to open her mouth to speak when Greg came barreling in through the door. The Inspector was panting hard as he tried to catch his breath enough in order to speak.

“For God sakes man, out with it,” Sherlock barked out.

“John…trouble…” Greg focused out. “Clinic…gunmen.”

Sherlock moved fast, shrugging on his coat and tying his scarf as he walked with Greg out of the room, leaving Molly once again by herself.

“What happened?” Sherlock demanded as he slipped into Greg’s passenger seat.

“Don’t know,” Greg replied as he slipped into the driver seat. He turned on the car, flipped on his siren and shot off down the road like a bullet out of a gun, cars diverting to get out of his way as he sped past. “An untraceable number dialed me and it sounded like it was coming from inside the clinic. It was just a lot of noise like someone was struggling. But, then someone said John’s name. I don’t recognize the other voice but John seemed to known them well.”

“I want to hear the recording.”

“A little busy at the moment, Sherlock,” Greg bit back as he made a hard left then right. He swerved, barely missing a mother and child crossing the street. “Jesus.”

“Which pocket?”

“What?”

“You’re phone. Which pocket is it in?”

“My inner left pocket. Why?”

Sherlock quickly reached into Greg’s pocket, fumbling when the Inspector made another hard right turn. He pulled it out of his pocket, his fingers moving at lightning speed to unlock Greg’s phone.

“Why do I even try using passwords around you?” Greg grumbled.

“I don’t really know. It’s like you’re not even trying at all,” Sherlock replied.

Greg glared at him but said nothing more.

It only took seconds for Sherlock to find the recoding. He pulled it up and hit play. As Greg had mentioned before, Sherlock could hear the struggling in the back ground. He picked out John’s voice right away.

_“Oh, you fucking little…”_

Sherlock smiled, knowing well that John must have done something to piss off his attacker. He felt pride swell up as he continued to listen. There was a moment of silence until Sherlock heard the other man’s voice, the man that called out John’s name but not what John goes by.

_“Johnny.”_

Moriarty.

Sherlock’s mind began to race. Why? Why was Moriarty there and sounded like he was in distress? It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense. He continued to listen to the recording and it sounded like John was struggling again. Another attacker and if Moriarty sounded like he was in distress that meant whoever these men were, they didn’t belong to him.

_“My nose.”_

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. It seems John won out again and broken the man’s nose. However, that all went out the window when he heard John and Moriarty’s next few words to one another. 

_“Well, I guess you were right about everything with one exception.”_

_“Oh, really?”_ Sherlock could hear the smile in the Irishman’s voice. He wanted to rip the man’s throat out. _“Do enlighten me.”_

_“I didn’t punch him.”_

_“Indeed, you didn’t. Which makes me slightly flawed, doesn’t it?”_

_“No, it makes you a little more human.”_

Sherlock stared at the phone with a mixture of rage and astonishment. He wasn’t for sure what was happening. Why did Moriarty – his arch-enemy – and John – his best friend – sound so damn chummy like they were best friends? Was John actually deceiving him? No, John wouldn’t do that. He is a good man – who on more than one occasion saved his life. He would have died to save Sherlock, a noble man. So, what was Sherlock missing here? There was a piece to this puzzle that he wasn’t seeing and only John could fill in that missing piece.

When they got to the clinic, Mycroft got out of his car and walked over to them. “I’m sorry about this, Sherlock.”

“Sorry about what?” Sherlock bit back, tone as cold as ice. “That you’re men are incompetent? That the British Government can’t seem to keep an eye on one man so he doesn’t get bloody kidnapped?”

“There were threats to national security, Sherlock. I just couldn’t ignore it.”

“Let me guess. Moriarty sent you on a wild goose chase?”

Mycroft narrowed his gaze at him. “How did you…” He turned towards the clinic, now realizing his mistake. “It was a distraction.”

“For some reason he’s in there with John,” Sherlock spat.

“Wait what?” Greg said. “How do you know that?”

“The other man on the recording,” Sherlock hissed. “There is only one man that ever called John, Johnny.”

Greg closed his eyes. “Moriarty. Damn it.”

“So, he gave me a distraction to get closer to John,” Mycroft sneered. “Why?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know,” Sherlock huffed.

“What do you mean, you don’t know,” Greg asked baffled. “He took that place hostage.”

Sherlock shook his head. “Those men, they don’t belong to him.”

“What do you mean, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked.

“Moriarty is there yes, but he isn’t the one behind this. For one, it isn’t his style. He likes puzzles and attention. No, he would know John better than that. If he was there just to see him, his best bet was to go in under a different name and act as if he were a new patient.”

“Why would he do that?” Greg asked.

“John would do anything to protect the people around him. Moriarty could have threaten him to not contact anyone to get alone time with him. John wouldn’t have any other choice but to comply.” Sherlock said. He looked at the building. It was quiet. He didn’t like that. If John really did take out two of his attackers shouldn’t they be coming out by now? _Unless there was more than one_ , his mind added. “We need to try and make contact.” Sherlock was about to dial when Greg took his phone away. “Give it back.”

“Sherlock, I’m Inspector here, which means I’m bloody well in charge. I’m the one going to make the phone call. Not you.”

“But, he’s my friend and he’s alone with not only one madman but others,” Sherlock said harshly.

“I know that,” Greg replied softly. “That’s why I need to be the one to do it. I have a clear head. You don’t.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, ready to argue but decided against it and closed it again. He hated that Greg was right. He just wanted to get John out and away from it all. Not to mention he wanted to interrogate Moriarty before throwing him in a hole for the rest of his life.

Greg nodded at him as he turned to face the building and dialed the number.

The phone was picked up on the forth ring. “If this is the coppers we don’t want…”

“Listen to me and listen very carefully because I’m only stating this once,” Greg began. “I want to speak to the one in charge. If you do not comply you’re going to have to deal with me. Understand that I’m not one to be trifled with.”

“Yes, one moment please,” the gunman said.

Sherlock was rather impressed with the DI. He could put the fear even into Mycroft if he so wished it. It made me glad that Greg was on his side.

There was suddenly the sound of screaming coming over the phone. “What was that? If that was one of the hostages so help me…”

He heard another man’s voice say, “Oh, no. That was one of mine screaming, Inspector. You see one of the hostages got a little carried away but isn’t hurt.”

“Then let me speak with him to make sure he is alright,” Greg demanded.

“You want to speak to him to be sure. How about I put you on speaker?” There was more noise before the gunman said, “Go ahead, Inspector.”

“This is Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Who am I speaking with?”

“Greg, it’s John.”

Greg’s heart fell. He knew John was inside but to know that these men had him was even worse.

“Is he alright?” Sherlock asked.

“Are you alright, John?” Greg repeated.

“I’m fine,” he said then added, “For now. Listen, there might be about a dozen or so hostages in the building. I’m not within view of them so please don’t do anything foolish.”

Greg placed his hand over the phone and said, “Listen to me, Sherlock. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. John isn’t within view of the hostages. He doesn’t know where they are. If you try anything then someone is going to get hurt.”

“But, I need to get in there,” Sherlock huffed.

“You might get someone hurt or worse. You’re not allowed to go. Understand?” Greg demanded.

“Alright,” Sherlock grumbled.

Greg uncovered his hand and said, “Understood, John.”

The gunman hit a button, taking Greg off of speaker and placing it back to his ear. “Now, that’s over with I want a chopper sent here and placed on top of the roof in the next twenty minutes.”

“I can’t do it within that time frame. I just need a little more time,” Greg said.

“No, if it’s any longer than that I’ll start shooting hostages, starting with the doc’s boyfriend. Now, get it done.” That’s when the line went dead.

Greg stared blankly at the phone.

“What did he say?” Sherlock asked impatiently.

Greg looked up at him and said, “He wants a chopper here within twenty minutes. I can’t just…”

Mycroft pulled his phone away from his ear and said, “Done. Anything else?”

Greg was astounded by the elder Holmes and the power he had backing him. He was glad that he was on his side. “No. That’s all he asked for.”

Sherlock was about to try to find some way inside when he heard Greg mention something that made all thoughts come to a screeching halt.

“Although the assailant did mention something about shooting John’s boyfriend that has me slightly distrait.”

Both Holmes shared a glance that had more words behind it then any ordinary person would know. However, Greg’s been around them for so long that he knew something was up. He was about to ask when Sherlock took off running. Greg was about to shout when Mycroft stepped closer, invading his personal space.

“Forgive me Gregory, but I can’t let you stop him. He needs to get in there before something should happen to John.”

“But, Sherlock would be getting in the way of things. He could get hurt.”

“I know. But, John means more to him than anything else. If I hold him back he’d never forgive me.”

Greg placed a hand gently on Mycroft’s arm. “I’m sure it will turn out alright. You’re brother and John, make one hell of a team. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mycroft smiled at him and left it at that.

*****

Sherlock slipped into the building through an opened window. He quickly made his way over to the door and peered out. Sitting in the middle of the waiting room were all the hostages and one gunman. Sherlock scanned them and cursed under his breath when he didn’t see John or Moriarty.

Sherlock was about to make a move towards the gunman when he stopped. One of the other men appeared and was telling them they needed to move into a different room _. No, that wouldn’t do_ , Sherlock thought to himself. He moved fast as he rushed at the one of the gunmen that had a tattoo on his arm that read the name “Marie.” He closed lined him, which forced the gun from his hands. They rolled and Sherlock was able to choke the man out. He was suddenly hit over the head, forcing him to fall to the floor. Sherlock looked up just as the gunman known as Brent was pointing the gun at him, ready to fire, when Sarah used the other gun to hit the man over the head with. Brent went down on the floor, falling unconscious just like his partner.

Sarah helped Sherlock to his feet. “Are you alright?”

Sherlock nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll be fine. Where’s John?”

“He’s in room 8B with four others and a new patient,” Sarah said.

“Thank you, Sarah. Now, I want you to get the others out of here. I’m going to go deal with them.” Sarah was about to hand Sherlock the gun but he refused. “No, you need it. If they come out, you need a way to protect yourselves.”

“What about you?” Sarah asked, sounding concerned.

He pulled Greg’s gun from his pocket and said, “I’ll mange. Now, go.” Sherlock watched Sarah leaned the others out of the room. It was good. John would be proud of him. That’s when he turned his attention down the hall. He could hear voices the closer he got to the room.

“Look what we got here, Pete.”

“I know, Rusty. Pay backs a bitch, ain’t it?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room. “Isn’t it?”

Both men turned to see none other than Sherlock Holmes standing in the door way, pointing Greg’s gun at them.

“What?” Rusty asked.

“The phrase is ‘Isn’t it’ not ‘Ain’t it’. It seems proper English passed you by a long time ago, which would makes sense giving the state you’re in. I do believe Doctor Watson is the one to thank for your broken nose and shiner. Given the circumstances I’m surprised that’s all he’d done.”

“For Christ sakes Sherlock, shut it and help me,” Moriarty said.

“Help you with what? Seems you’re doing a fine job on your own,” Sherlock replied.

“Oh, what makes you think he is?” Pete asked.

Moriarty pulled as hard as he could and managed to only free himself from the table but not his hands. They remain bound as he took that opportunity to once again kick Pete hard between the legs. He also kicked Rusty and both men fell hard to the ground. Sherlock rushed over to Moriarty and untied him. “Took you long enough,” Moriarty huffed, jumping off the table.

“I had to find my way inside without anyone seeing me. It wasn’t easy,” Sherlock replied.

“I would have done it before John was taken up to the roof,” Moriarty said, picking up a gun and heading for the door.

Sherlock rushed after him. “Well, let’s go get him.”

Both men rushed out of the room and over to a door that was marked “Stairs.”

“I want to know why you were here,” Sherlock said.

Moriarty ignored him as they took the stairs two at a time. “Hurry, there isn’t much time.” Both men continued upward, hoping they would stop Vince before John was taken for good. When they finally got to the roof’s door Moriarty grabbed the door handle and said, “Ready?”

Sherlock nodded once and both men stormed onto the roof.

“John,” Sherlock shouted.

Vince turned around with a gun in hand, pointing it at John’s head. “Don’t come any closer Holmes or I’ll shoot.”

Sherlock and Moriarty aimed their guns at Vince as they both took a step closer.

“Christ, you don’t really listen well, do you?” Vince hissed.

“Oh, they listen,” John said, and then added, “But, it’s actually getting them to do the action you told them to do, that’s the trick.”

Sherlock and Moriarty smiled slightly and John’s sarcastic response.

“Let him go, Vince,” Moriarty said. “And maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of my situation here,” Vince replied harshly.

“I really don’t care,” Sherlock hissed.

“Christ, it’s like I’m the bloody toy and you all are the spoiled little children,” John huffed.

“Agreed,” Moriarty said. “So, let loose my Johnny bear and we’ll be on our way.”

Sherlock arched a questioning eye brow. John blushed, down casing his gaze. Moriarty smiled.

It was then they heard the sound of the helicopter. “Well, I hate to leave you all like this but Doctor Watson and I must be off,” Vince said. The chopper was getting closer.

“Any bright ideas, Sherly?” Moriarty asked.

“I do have one but it’s a bit suicidal,” Sherlock retorted.

“Sounds like my kind of fun,” Moriarty said happily.

“I need a distraction.” Sherlock pointed up at the chopper.

Moriarty smiled wickedly and said, “Done.” He moved away from Sherlock, pointing his gun up at the chopper and started to fire.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vince shouted. “Stop that.”

“No,” Moriarty yelled back as he continued to fire.

Finally, the chopper flew off, leaving them behind. “Fuck,” Vince shouted. He turned to Moriarty, a wild gleam in his eyes. “You’re going to pay for that.” He started to storm towards Moriarty when Sherlock pointed his gun at Vince’s head, forcing the man to stop.

“Throw down your gun,” Sherlock demanded.

“You don’t get it. I have to deliver him,” Vince said.

Sherlock pressed the barrel into Vince’s head a little harder. “Throw it down.”

Vince complied as he slowly held up his hands, turning to face Sherlock. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Tell me who sent you?” Sherlock demanded.

“I can’t,” Vince said.

Moriarty pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s cheek. “Oh, but I think you can.”

“He’ll kill me if I do,” Vince said.

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Moriarty hissed.

“Sherlock, Jim, back off,” John said, stepping closer.

“He was going to take you, Johnny. I can’t allow for that to go unpunished.”

“Agreed,” Sherlock added.

“You can’t kill him,” John snapped.

“Why? He was going to have the other hostages killed,” Moriarty spat back.

“It wasn’t my doing. I was only following orders,” Vince said.

“Who’s orders?” John asked.

Vince shook his head. “Tell my daughter Kristy when she is old enough, I’m sorry.” He bit down on something inside his mouth.

“No,” John shouted. “He has a poison capsule.”

Vince was foaming at the mouth within moments, like a rabid dog, body shaking from the toxin until it stopped. John was trying to do CPR but it took both Sherlock and Moriarty to pull him away.

“It’s no use, John. He’s dead,” Sherlock said.

“But, I need to know why,” John stated, fuming as he turned to face the two geniuses. That’s when it suddenly hit him. Both Sherlock and Moriarty stood there, side by side, staring at him with concern. John felt like he was in a Twilight Zone episode. It didn’t seem plausible. “Did I miss something?”

“Such as what, Johnny,” Moriarty asked.

“You two aren’t going at the other’s throats,” John inquired.

“You were in danger, John. If we stood any sort of chance we needed to work together to get you out safely,” Sherlock explained.

“That’s a relief,” John said.

“However, sense the threat has been eliminated,” Sherlock said, turning and pointing his gun at Moriarty, “I think it’s time you and I have a little chat.”

Moriarty pointed his gun at Sherlock. “Oh? Is this about who gets custody of Johnny?”

John was hit with a bombshell. This went south so fast it was making him dizzy. “Wait, what?”

“Hush, Johnny,” Moriarty mused. “The grow ups are talking.”

“John isn’t something you can just claim, Jim. He is his own person,” Sherlock bit back.

“Oh, so he can make his own choice if he wants to come with me willingly.” Moriarty looked over at John. “What do you say, Johnny? Fancy a walk on the wild side?”

It was all becoming slightly overwhelming for John. When he was with the Irishman all thoughts of Sherlock and his previously life went right out the window. All he could think about was how soft Moriarty’s lips were. How slow the kiss was at first and then built up, sending a spark throughout his body. However, he wanted to stay with Sherlock. He cared for the man and he wouldn’t feel right leaving him behind. They were best friends. _Christ, why is this so damn hard_ , John thought to himself. Could he really have his cake and eat it too? Was he capable of being that selfish?

“Tick-tock, Johnny,” Moriarty said.

“I just…I can’t…I don’t know…” John stammered.

Sherlock walked up to him, taking John’s hand into his own. “You need time. I can see that. Why don’t you go check on the others? I’m sure Sarah wouldn’t mind seeing that you’re alright.”

John nodded. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Sherlock.”

“You’re welcome, John.”

Sherlock and Moriarty watched John disappear. When he was out of sight they slowly lowered their guns to their side.

“You can’t have him,” Sherlock snapped.

“Thought he wasn’t a pet,” Moriarty sneered.

“He isn’t. But, it seems you can’t grasp that concept.”

“He can be so much more, Sherlock. You’re holding him back. I could break him and put him back the way he’s supposed to be.”

“John isn’t some bloody toy, Jim,” Sherlock shouted. “He’s a person with his own free will. You can’t own someone. It doesn’t work like that.”

Moriarty frowned for a moment before plastering the smile back on his face. “I guess it is up to Johnny then.”

“I guess it would be, yes,” Sherlock said unhappily. “I think it’s time for you to leave now.”

“Quite right, Sherly.” He turned and headed for the door. When he stopped, he looked back at Sherlock and said, “May the odds be ever in your favor.” He winked, letting the door fall close behind him.

Sherlock pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and started to type a message to Greg.

_There is a body up here on the roof. Have your least irritating officers come to retrieve it. Moriarty is on his way down. Do not engage.  – SH_

_But, we can put him behind bars. – GL_

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

_Do not approach him. He did nothing wrong…this time. Let him go. – SH_

_God, I hope you know what you’re doing. – GL_

_So, do I_ …Sherlock typed but he quickly hit the backspace button and retyped…

_Just keep an eye on John. – SH_

_Will do. – GL_

Sherlock pocketed his phone and turned to look at the dead man on the ground. Whoever he was working for scared him so bad that it forced his hand to kill himself. Sherlock bent down and started to ruffle through the man’s pockets. He didn’t find anything but a single picture of a man and a boy. Sherlock stared at it for a long time before he heard the door open. They were from Molly’s office, here to collect the body. Sherlock stood back up, letting them do their job. After they were gone his attention resumed back on the photograph and he couldn’t help but notice something. The boy in the photo had blonde hair, blue eyes and couldn’t be more than ten. His smile was a little forced but other than that he looked happy. The man in the photo had many same characteristics as the boy. Blonde hair, blue eyes and the same kind of annoyance on his face as if he was tired of posing for the camera.

Sherlock wasn’t aware of how much time went by when John texted him.

_Where are you? I’m home and you’re not. Thought you would be by now. – JW_

_I’ll be home in ten. – SH_

Sherlock pocketed his phone, placing the photo in his other pocket and started to make his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a little time do. I love it a lot and I hope you do too. I am very tired so forgive typos. I will check over it.

By the time John got outside, it was dark out. He checked on Sarah and the others, happy to see they were all alright, even more so to hear that Sherlock was the one to get them out safely. He was about to walk on when Greg stopped him.

“John, what the hell is going on?” Greg asked, stepping in front of him.

“What do you mean?” John inquired.

“Moriarty,” Greg huffed.

“Oh,” John murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “He came to the clinic as a patient.”

“Is that it?” Greg asked, not seeming to buy into it.

John sighed. “Look, I’m tired. I just want to go home. Can we do this later?”

“But…”

“Let him go, Inspector,” Mycroft said, walking up beside Greg. “I am sure we will get what we need from Sherlock.”

“Look here, you sorry excuse for a…”

Mycroft stepped into John’s personal space and growled, “I’d be careful what you say around me, Doctor. Being Sherlock’s best friend or not, I will not hesitate reinstating your papers and shipping you off to a small icy place where not even the birds could land their dropping on you.”

John glared up at him. “Prove it,” he dared.

“Ah, it’s nice to see you two getting along so swimmingly.” They all turned to find Moriarty walking up to them, fully dressed once again, with a smile on his face and not a hair out of place.

“I could have you locked up and throw away the key,” Mycroft growled.

Moriarty placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. “You could but you can’t. Sorry, Iceman. I’m off limits this time. Perhaps I’ll send you a nice fruit basket. Something tasteful for your troubles, after all, I wouldn’t have been able to get one on one time with Johnny if it wasn’t for some small effort on your part.”

“What do you mean by that?” John asked.

“We believed we were following a lead to Moriarty. Instead it was to a trafficking ring. We shut it down.” Mycroft explained.

John looked at Moriarty with bewilderment. “You helped to stop human’s from being sold off?”

Moriarty shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I did.”

“Why?” John asked, stepping closer to the Irishman. “I thought you didn’t care about anything that didn’t benefit you.”

Moriarty smiled wickedly and said, “Who says it didn’t?” He gave John a wink.

John couldn’t hide his embracement. “Oh.”

“So, this is a plan to get at John,” Greg said.

“It’s so good to see you, Inspector. How is your love life? Are you and Mycroft working things out? That looked like a nasty little spat you had in your office earlier today. Hope it won’t poor over into your bed. That’s why I never mix business and pleasure. It gets to messy.” Moriarty divulged.

John looked at them shocked.

Greg and Mycroft both blushed and looked away. The Inspector made a mental note in the back of his mind to have his team scan over his office and remove any unwanted eyes.

“The things I know, am I right?” Moriarty mused. He turned back to John. “Can I walk you home, Johnny?”

John didn’t know what to think at this point. He didn’t realize Greg and Mycroft became an item and he wondered if Sherlock knew and if he did, why he hadn’t said anything. A big part of him wanted to wait on Sherlock but he felt like his flat-mate needed more time. So, he nodded and said, “Alright.” John started to walk off, leaving Moriarty. If there was one person he would be safest with at this point it would be the master criminal himself since he was a target for only God knows who.

Moriarty smiled big as he said, “Excellent.” When John was out of ear shot he took the opportunity as he turned to Greg and Mycroft, giving them both a wink. “Do try not to spy too much. I’m not going to hurt him. Besides, I think you two have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“Meaning?” Greg hissed.

“Why those men were after Johnny to begin with. Do keep up, Inspector,” Moriarty said before turning to look at Mycroft. “I know I’m curious myself.”

“I’m sure you have men working on it as we speak,” Mycroft started flatly.

“Indeed I do, Iceman. But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make here. I know just about every criminal there is. From the big to the small, because every part is a line in my web, but this...This is something beyond me and I do not like not knowing. So, with that said. May you get to them before I do because when I get my hands on them, there won’t be anything left.”

“Jim, are you coming?” John shouted out.

Moriarty smiled wickedly he sang, “Yes.” He bowed at Greg and Mycroft and said, “May the highest power in the land win.” He turned and walked over to John. His hands remained in his pockets as he walked beside John down the sidewalk, and out of sight.

As they walked, John stole a glance over at Moriarty and noticed he was looking up at the night sky. John turned his gaze up and recalled Sherlock’s comment about the stars. How he admired them. They were beautiful. It made John smile and when he looked over at Moriarty again the Irishman was looking back at him with a wolfish grin. John looked away quickly, feeling slightly overwhelmed. What the hell was he doing with this man?

Moriarty could see how conflicted John was on his face and his mind of what was happening. He had a strange urge to comfort him even though he’d never done so in his life. If he wanted to make this work with John then he needed to put forth the effort to try. “I’m usually able to talk about anything which sometimes is usual nonsense. In this case I’m finding it rather difficult to settle on a top that both of us have similar interest.”

John wasn’t sure what Moriarty’s end game was but at least if he was with the Irishman it meant that he wasn’t going to blow up a building or drown some puppies or whatever the hell it was that Moriarty did. Instead he smiled and said, “Really? You of all people are at a loss for words? I think hell has just frozen over. You might want to go check your throne and thaw it out.”

Moriarty found himself genuinely laughing at John’s words. He’d never felt like this with anyone before. It was almost like they were friends. He wanted that more than anything. What he felt towards John was unlike anything he felt before and he didn’t want to lose it. “Your sass knows no bounds, does it, Johnny boy?”

“Well, it does tend to lighten any awkward situation,” John replied.

Moriarty took John’s words into consideration. “Is this awkward to you?” 

John looked over at him with a ‘are you fucking kidding me right now,’ expression. “Well, yeah. You killed people, put me in a bomb vest, and then kissed me. Now, here we are walking back to my flat for only God knows what. So, yeah. I would say it is on the top of the awkward scale for me.”

Moriarty nodded in agreement. “It is for me, too.”

“How so?” John asked.

“Oh come now, Johnny. You can’t honestly be asking that of me when you just mentioned a small handful of the things I’ve done.”

“But, if you want me to get to know you. How am I to if you won’t talk about it?”

“Fair point,” Moriarty said, sighing.

They made it to the 221B and John turned to Moriarty. Both stood there staring at the other unsure of what to do now.

“Aren’t you going to offer me up for a night cap?” Moriarty asked.

“I think that would be a bad idea,” John replied.

“But, how can you get to know me if you’re not willing to try?”

John smiled with Moriarty throwing his words back into his face. “Fair point. Alright, fine. You can come up but no funny business.”

Moriarty wiggled his eye brows as he purred, “I make no promises on that.”

John rolled his eyes but felt a fondness swell up in his chest. He unlocked the door and let Moriarty slip inside first. Once inside, John closed it and started up the stairs.

“I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave,” Moriarty mused.

John’s brows furrowed as he turned a looked at the Irishman. “What?”

“‘Cause of your arse.”

John blushed and turned back around. He’d never heard that before. Moriarty wasn’t holding anything back and it made him feel like he did when he was back in college. John was a strapping lad. The girls loved him and the guys wanted to be him. Then he went and became a soldier and a doctor because he wanted to help people. Now, look at him. He was walking up the stairs with the world’s most dangerous man behind him, who seemed to be making goo-goo eyes and his ares. If that doesn’t say a lot of how fucked up his life was, nothing would.

When they reached the top John unlocked the door and let Moriarty enter first. Once inside John closed the door and said, “Would you like some tea?”

“That sounds delightful,” Moriarty replied as he looked around the room.

John walked into the kitchen, grabbing the tea pot from off the counter and placing it under the faucet. His mind was racing. What was he doing? Of all people to allow into his flat – not just his flat but the one he shared with Sherlock – Moriarty wouldn’t be the first on his list. But there was just something about the man that was drawing them together. John couldn’t quite put his finger on it as he moved the pot of water onto the burner on the stove, turning it on. He moved over to one of the upper cabinets and took down two cups when he was suddenly spun around.

Moriarty was invading his personal space by pressing his body close to John’s, penning him so he couldn’t get away. “I’ve never felt so close to anyone in my life. I can feel your excitement and I can see your arousal for danger. You like me because I’m the most dangerous man you know, Johnny. Sure you’re afraid but not for yourself. No, you don’t really care if you get hurt just as long as others don’t in the process. I want to give you that. Whatever your heart desires, pet. I can be what you need.”

John was breathless with the Irishman being so close to him and making promises he knew that Moriarty intended to make good on. It was overwhelming. Something he’d never once given thought too. Okay, that’s a lie. He did love the way he smelled when he had his arms wrapped around him at the pool, telling Sherlock to run for it. John was ready to die for his friend. But, this, running away with the most dangerous man in all London and perhaps the world, John wasn’t for sure he could leave Sherlock like that. He cared about the crazy nutter that played his violin at odd hours of the night. That kept heads in the fridge and eyeballs in the microwave. How they ran about London solving cases and him blogging about it. He loved Sherlock and even if he didn’t know if Sherlock felt the same it didn’t matter. Could he really give all of that up and be with a man that went against all his morals?

“Jim, I…”

Moriarty placed a finger on John’s lips to silence him. “Before you tell me that this can’t work. That for some reason your good vs. my evil would be some bad soap opera, tell me this. What do you feel right now?” Moriarty moved his hand up to caress John’s cheek.

John closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Moriarty’s hand. His cock twitched even though it shouldn’t be. This was wrong. So very wrong and yet…John opened his eyes and stared back into the chocolate brown eyes of the Irishman. He swallowed hard and said, “I feel a rush of power, excitement, lust but also uncertainty.”

“Let go of your fears, Johnny.” Moriarty’s hand moved up into John’s hair, gripping it. “I’ll catch you but you must trust that I will.”

John snorted. How could he trust this man? It was crazy to think that Moriarty was asking him to do the impossible.

“Nothing is impossible, Johnny,” Moriarty purred. “I’ve got you but you must let go.” He was leaning into closer to John, lips about to press against the doctor’s when the tea pot started to whistle. John turned his head to the side, forcing Moriarty to kiss his neck instead of his lips.

“Christ…I need…I need to get that,” John stammered breathlessly.

Moriarty pulled back, disappointed that he was so close and yet so far. He wanted to throw the tea pot across the room but knew that wouldn’t win John over any faster. So, he stepped away to let John finish making them tea.

John turned around, thankful that the tea pot gave him a way out. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to feel Moriarty’s soft full lush’s lips press against his again. He started to mentally kick himself for even thinking that of the Irishman. Moriarty was supposed to be the enemy. Not his friend or even lover or whatever the hell he was trying to play at. He needed Sherlock here to use a barrier between them. John pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock.

_Where are you? I’m home and you’re not. Thought you would be by now. – JW_

He was thankful when he got an immediate response.

_I’ll be home in ten. – SH_

John slipped his phone back into his pocket and began to prepare their tea. “How do you like your tea?” When he got no reply he turned and found he was alone. “Jim?” He called out but got no reply. He walked into the living room to find the door was standing open and Moriarty was nowhere in sight. Just then his phone began to buzz. He pulled it out and saw he got a new message from a JM.

_Johnny, I am sorry to leave so abruptly but I can’t remain with Sherlock on his way. I’m sorry you felt the urge to use him at a wall between us. With time I am hoping to show you that my feelings are true. That you make my heart slow and beat faster at the same time and I really don’t know why. I just know I like it, for whatever reason I like it and I don’t want it to stop. Please, think about us. I’ll be in touch. – JM_

John stood there baffled with this mouth agape. He was stunned that Moriarty decided to leave and despite everything he was slightly miffed. If the Irishman wanted them to get to know one another, to make something happen between them, then why in the hell would he leave?

“John?”

John looked up to see Sherlock bounding up the steps two at a time.

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Uh yes, of course it is,” John replied, tucking away his phone into his pocket.

“You’re message sounded rather urgent.”

John rubbed the back of his head nervously and said, “I was just…” _I can’t lie to him_ , John thought. “I was just worried about you with everything that happened.” _At least it wasn’t a lie but not fully the truth_ , John thought bitterly. He knew Sherlock would figure things out as he often did.

Sherlock raised an eye brow. He took a moment to study his flat-mate and what he saw in John’s posture was tension, along with being flustered. Why would John be feeling flustered? Sherlock looked around the room, absorbing data like a sponge would water. There was freshly brewed tea that had been moved off the burner and sat beside two empty cups. He turned to look at John and could see that his pupils were dilated, his hair was deviled and his jumper was slightly wrinkled. All signs point to one thing. Moriarty was here. Sherlock turned his full attention back to John and wondered why his friend couldn’t look him in the eye. It began to become even clearer with John’s nervousness that Sherlock came to the conclusion that his friend was ashamed. Sherlock walked over to his friend, placing a hand gently on the shorter man’s shoulder and said, “John, do you want to talk about what happened between you and him?”

John looked up at Sherlock, surprised by his calmness. “You’re not mad?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Why would I be? He helped me save you. Why he did is beyond me but I can also say that I am not thrilled he was in my home without myself being present.”

“I’m sorry. He offered to walk me home and I…I wasn’t thinking.”

Sherlock smiled at him. “John, you have no reason to be sorry. Ever. Alright? Now, why don’t you sit and I’ll finish making us some tea.”

John nodded without another word. He moved over to his chair and sat. Sherlock walked into the kitchen and fixed them tea in the two cups that remained on the counter. When he was finished, he walked into the sitting room, handing John’s to his before sitting in his own chair. John took a sip of his tea, making a small humming sound of delight in the back of his throat. “This is good. Thank you, Sherlock.”

“You’re welcome, John,” Sherlock replied, taking a sip of his own before placing it on his side table. “When you are ready, I want to hear about what happened in that room.”

John drank the rest of his tea before sitting it on the small table beside his chair. “There isn’t much to tell. I kicked some arse and…”

“No, with Moriarty,” Sherlock said, cutting John off.

John knew he needed to talk about it. Isn’t that why he asked him home? To try and figure things out? However, John wasn’t sure where to begin. _Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all_ , he thought to himself. Instead he decided to switch gears since he wasn’t ready to talk about it. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Why? Are you jealous?”

Sherlock scoffed. Not sure where that had come from. Normally John would be happy he were here and to talk. He was always trying to get him to talk about his ‘feelings’ but it seemed John was deflecting or perhaps something else was on his friends mind. Sherlock decided if he wanted to get more data he needed to play along with John’s annoying little game. “Me, jealous? What could I possibly be jealous of?”

“That I managed to capture Jim’s attention over you,” John bit back.

Sherlock mentally flinched when John spoke about Moriarty with using his first name. He’d never done so before. _Something had defiantly changed_ , he thought. “Oh, please,” Sherlock huffed. “He is probably playing at some kind of game in order to get to me. He is a psychopath after all, unless you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, Sherlock,” John snapped. “Unlike some others I know.”

Sherlock glared at him. This was getting a little out of hand. “I see.”

John sighed.  He didn’t want to drive Sherlock away but with the sadness in his friend’s eyes he could see that was exactly what he’d done. “That’s not…Sherlock, that’s not what I meant.”

“By all means, what did you really want to say? Hmmm? Because, I think you’ve said quite enough.” Sherlock stood up from his chair. “Goodnight, John.” He started to walk towards his room when John grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. Please, just sit back down so we can…”

Sherlock didn’t even look at him. “I said goodnight, John.”

John stared at him, unsure of what to do. Finally he released Sherlock’s sleeve and he watched as his flat-mate walked down the hall, into his room, and slammed the door behind him. It caused John to flinch as he stood there not sure of what more he should do. It was like his world was turned upside down. What the hell was going on? Why was any of this happening? He wanted to march down the hall and demand for Sherlock to talk to him but he knew that wouldn’t do any good at this point since he purposely drove him away. Anyway, he suspected that Sherlock might be deep in thought in his mind palace by now. So, instead he turned off the lights and headed up the stairs to his room. When he entered he kept the light off as he removed his jumper and tossed it on the floor. He felt frustrated beyond word and even more so at himself for being such an idiot. He was about to remove his undershirt when his phone chimed again. With a heavy sigh, he pulled it out of his pocket and saw another message from JM.

_It’s a little hard to see you undress with the lights off, pet. – JM_

John began to look around the room for any cameras when his phone chimed again.

_Think of me as the neighborhood’s peeping Tom. – JM_

John walked in front of the window and peered over to the flat across from his window. There was Moriarty, standing with a glass of red wine in one hand and his phone in the other. John felt like shutting his blinds but decided against it and instead typed out a message.

_What do you want, Jim? – JW_

_Well, you could do one of two things, Johnny. One you can just go to sleep and I’ll be sure to keep watch while you do so or number two, you can give Daddy a little show before saying nighty-night. It’s up to you. – JM_

John looked up from his phone to where Moriarty stood. Even though the Irishman was so far away it seemed like he was in the same room. John could feel goose bumps rising up across his skin. Why did he feel like this? It wasn’t supposed to be turning him on.

John’s phone began to ring. He laid it down on the windowsill as he hit the talk button and said, “Jim, I…”

“Shhh, just listen to me pet, and do as I tell you. Understood, soldier?”

John bit at his bottom lip, knowing this a horrible idea but for some reason he couldn't stop himself as he said, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Could John really go that far? They were only playing anyway, right? “Yes, sir.”

“That will do, my good boy,” Moriarty purred. “Now, slowly take off your shirt.”

John did as he was told and slowly lifted his shirt up over his head, leaving on his wife-beater.

“Christ, look at that tone body. Why do you insist on hiding under so much clothing?”

“One could ask you the same thing,” John replied sarcastically.

“Touché, pet,” Moriarty cooed. “Now, take it off, Johnny. Slowly.”

John did as he was told and slowly lifted his shirt up over his head. He felt exposed and a little ashamed with Sherlock being downstairs. Why was he doing this?

“Don’t think about him. This has nothing to do with him, Johnny. Look at me.” John turned his attention back to Moriarty. “It is only you and me, pet. No one else. Alright?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Good. Now, pet. Unbutton those tight jeans and wiggle your pretty little arse out of them.”

John felt the sweat start to bead on his forehead. His cock was semi-hard and growing. This was something he’d never done before in his life and it was the most exciting and probably the fucking hottest thing he’d ever done. “Jim,” he breathed as he did as he was told. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs, revealing a pair of blue pants underneath. John felt an urge to cover his shame but Moriarty made him feel better.

“It’s okay, Johnny. You’re doing so good. Slip them off. Let me see.”

John moaned. His cock was starting to strain against his pants. So he lifted his hands. They were trembling slightly. He wasn’t scared in the least, more like uncertain of the consequences from the outcome. If he went through with this then there was not telling of what would happen.

“Let Daddy see it, pet,” Moriarty said, voice lilted with arousal.

 John took a deep breath in and out, calming his nerves. Slowly he pushed down his pants and stepped out of them. He stood back up with his back straight even though he felt like covering himself with his hands. He knew Moriarty would be displeased if he did.

“Spin around for me, pet. I want to see the whole package.”

John felt his mouth grow dry as he slowly turned around until he was facing back out the window at the other man across the street. The next few words from the Irishman’s lips were something that John only dreamed about.

“Fuck, Johnny. I could fuck that arse for hours. Make you scream until you no longer could speak but that still wouldn’t keep you from trying. I’d suck that huge and beautiful cock of yours with a hungry greed, until every last drop of delicious milky white goodness was down my throat. You’d be all mine, pet. No one else could ever touch you. I would kill them for doing so.”

Chris, was his cock actually getting harder? “Jim, I need…please, it hurts.” John groaned, his cock standing fully erect now.

“Then listen to every word I have to say, pet. Daddy’s going to make it better for you by making you spill that sticking cum all over that window. But, you must follow my implicit instructions. Do you think you can do that, Johnny?” 

“Yes, Jim. Please tell me what you want me to do,” John whimpered.

 “Ever the soldier,” Moriarty purred. “I want you to retrieve the bottle of lubricant from the top drawer of your nightstand.”

“How did you…”

“Don’t think, Johnny. Do as Daddy says or I’ll use Sherlock’s riding crop to make those arse cheeks nice and rosy.” Moriarty’s voice dropped an octave as he cooed, “Don’t think Daddy hasn’t notice the way you stare at it when you watch Sherly beating a corpse. Fantasizing what it would feel like if he used that crop on you instead.”

John let out a quivering breath as he slowly reached up, about ready to take his hard member into his hand when Moriarty’s next words made his stop.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself, Captain. If you do I’ll tie you up, place a cock ring on that exquisite cock of yours, stuff that beautiful arse with a butt plug, and watch as you thrash about. I’ll turn you into a blubbering mess as you begged me to let you cum. But, I wouldn’t let you. I’d leave you like that for hours. Perhaps I’ll even gag you as I conducted business. You’d be my own little show.”

John’s legs felt weak as they shook. He couldn’t stop his mind as it ran wild, imaging what Moriarty was describing to do to him. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat but it was no use. His mouth was completely bone dry. Fuck, he was already a damn mess. The things that crazed Irishman did to him.

“Now, do as I intruded, Captain. Get that bottle of lube from the top drawer of your nightstand or I’ll come over there and do it myself. I don’t think Sherlock would be too pleased but I don’t think he’d let me leave you in the condition you’re in.”

The thought of Sherlock seeing him like this made his cock twitch and a new source of panic took hold. He didn’t want that to happen and yet the thoughts excited him. What would Sherlock do if he saw him this hard? Would he ignore him or would he do something about it?

“Johnny, I’m not a patient man. Maybe I should blow something up to gain your attention.”

“No, please. I’ll do it,” John pleaded.

“Good. Get to it then.”

So, with all the strength that John could muster, he turned around and slowly made his way over to the drawer. It was difficult to say the least, what with having a rock hard erection and all. But, John somehow managed it. He turned and walked back over to stand in front of the window, every muscle in his body screaming for release.

“Open the bottle and squirt some onto your cock. Don’t get any on the floor.”

John could hear the venom in Moriarty’s tone. He didn’t want to find out what punishment he’d have to endure if he wasn’t careful enough. John shook the bottle so the lube would be closer to lid so when he opened it the lube oozed out easily. He dragged the bottle up and down his staff to make sure it would be well lubricated for what he was about to do.

“That’s good, pet. Now, squirt some into your hand and place the bottle on the windowsill.”

John didn’t hesitate. He squirted some into his hand before placing the bottle next to his phone. He looked out the window at Moriarty, waiting for his next command. It was starting to get unbearable but he could hold out a little longer.

“Alright, with your lubed hand I want you to finger yourself and with the other I want you to stroke your cock.

John’s eyes widen with surprise. He wasn’t excepting that. “Jim, I don’t know if I can…”

“Do it, Johnny. Or I’ll come over there and fuck that pretty throat of yours. It’s not only good for your sassy little come backs.”

John groaned. For whatever reason he wanted to make Moriarty happy and if seeing him finger fucking himself and jack off at the same time did that, then so be it. John reached around with his lubed hand and started to rub the lube around his hole. With his other hand he gripped around his cock and started to slowly stroke himself from base to tip, repeating the motion as he moaned.

“Oh, look at you. My naughty little toy soldier,” Moriarty purred. “You look so lovely in the moonlight like this, pet. While all those boring brainless simpletons carry on with their ordinary dreary lives, you’re putting on a show just for me. Only for me.”

A shiver ran down John’s spine at Moriarty’s last three words. It sounded like a command or maybe a promise. Either way it made John want to try harder to continue to capture the Irishman’s attention.

“Stop that, Johnny.”

John stopped what he was doing, giving Moriarty a quizzing look.

“Stop thinking and enjoy. You have my attention. Now, let’s hear you moan. Say my name, pet.”

John smirked as he went back to thrusting his finger inside him and timing the thrusts as he stroked his cock. “Mmmm, it feels so good, Jim.”

“That’s it, Johnny. Fuck yourself like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck, Jim.” John’s erection was starting to get the better of him. His legs were shaking, his lip was quivering and sweat beaded down his face. He was whimpering mess and needed to cum. “Jim, I need to cum. Please, let me cum.”

“Not yet, my sweet boy,” Moriarty purred, licking his lips like a lion watching its prey. “I want you to fuck yourself a little faster.”

John did. He closed his eyes and started to move his hands faster, timing them with Moriarty’s words.

“Oh yes, Johnny. Like that. Stick another finger in. That’s it. Good boy. Now, imagine it’s my cock fucking that tight little arse of yours.”

“Fuck, Jim. It feels so good,” John whimpered.

“That’s a good, boy. So, close for Daddy. I can _feel_ it.”

“Oh, Jim…”

“Call me Daddy, baby.”

John couldn’t see any other reason not to. He was already fucking himself in front of Jim Moriarty. How else could this get more demeaning? “Fuck, Daddy. I can feel it building up.”

“Tell me when you’re close, baby.”

John was panting hard as he sped up his rhythm. He was so damn close. That he felt like his whole body would explode the moment he did. “Christ, Daddy. I’m getting closer.”

“Open your eyes, pet. Look at me.”

The moment John did, he thrust his fingers up, hitting his prostate which sent over the edge. He started to shout but bit his bottom lip, the taste of copper pouring into his mouth to keep from Sherlock hearing him. The last thing he wanted was to have his friend see him like this. His load shot all over his hand and the window just like Moriarty said it would. “Jesus Christ, Jim,” John said breathlessly.

Moriarty smiled back at him. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun now, could I?”

John didn’t know when Moriarty had put the glass of wine down or when he took his own rock hard member out and started to play with it. It was like a dream that he never wanted to wake up from. “Christ, you…” John felt light headed and weak. His legs almost gave way and he hand to lean himself against the window.

“Careful, Johnny,” Moriarty said, sounding sincere. “I wouldn’t want you to pull anything. Well, pull anything that would make it harder to get back to your bed.” Moriarty chuckled at his own joke.

John looked at him and smiled. “You came too.”

“Yes I did,” Moriarty replied, grabbing a tissue out of nowhere and cleaning himself up. “I suggest you try and get to your bed, Johnny.”

“Don’t want too,” John huffed back.

“Johnny, I mean it,” Moriarty said, tucking his member back into his trousers. “Go to bed.”

“Fine,” John said, pouting as though he were a small child. He slowly turned and moved toward his bed. His legs were shaking like he was in currently in the middle of an earthquake.

“That’s it, Johnny. Almost there. Just a little bit more,” Moriarty encouraged.

“My phone,” John said suddenly. He started to turn back around and almost fell over onto the floor but he steady himself enough and started to laugh. “I almost fell over.”

“Quite right,” Moriarty smirked. He loved this John. It was one he could get use to seeing more of because it was almost like he was drunk or high. However, he wasn’t neither of those things. It was an afterglow orgasm, mixed with tiredness from a mind blowing release. Who knows how long John had it stored up for but if this was the outcome then Moriarty would make sure to make him orgasm more often in the future. “Alright, Johnny. Turn those cute buns right around and get into bed.”

John smiled big and slurred, “Okay, Jim.” He turned around and with much effort finally made it over to his bed. He crawled onto it, his bare arse in the air for Moriarty to see. He wigged it before sliding underneath the covers. “Will you stay there all night watching me?”

“Yes, Johnny. I’m going to be right here and watch you have peaceful dreams.”

John laid his head down on his pillow. “Jim?”

“Yes, Johnny,” Moriarty replied softly.

“Are you…are you going to keep me?”

It was something that was on Moriarty’s mind sense being in the office visit. He started this because he was bored. He didn’t mean to get attached. Honestly he didn’t but here he was. Staring at a man that turns out wasn’t ordinary at all. John made him feel something he never had before. He made him feel loved. “If you let me Johnny, I’ll never let you go.”

“That’s good,” John said, eyes fluttering closed. “Jim?”

“Yes, Johnny,” Moriarty said.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?”

Christ, if he only could. “Not yet, Johnny. Soon though. I promise. But, right now you need to go to sleep.”

“Alright, Jim. For you, I will sleep.”

“That’s my good little soldier.” Within minutes Moriarty could hear John snoring over the phone. He hit the end button as he stared into the window, watching as the doctor slept peacefully in a sound slumber. Moriarty sat down in the lazy boy that was placed behind him. He could keep his promise and watch John all night. A promise was a promise. “Goodnight, my Johnny boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I do hope you enjoyed this and if you did let me know. Just leave a comment below. I am having fun writing this fic. Lots more fun to be had. Thank you again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the lovely messages. I've been trying to keep up on this one because I like it so much and the story line is fresh in my head. Please leave me a message at the bottom. It helps to know if you are liking this or not.

When John awoke the next morning, he stretched his achy limbs while a smile played on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a peaceful night’s sleep. Something about it was different. He felt more relaxed then he ever had before. Racking his brain, it finally dawned on him why. He shot up and stared out the window to the other flat across from his. Moriarty was gone. _What the hell_ , John thought to himself. He looked at the window where he’d ejaculated and surprised to find that there wasn’t anything on the window. Even if phone and the bottle of lube were gone. He looked to his nightstand and saw that his phone had been plugged in. He opened his top drawer and the lube was back in its originally spot. John furrowed his brow and started to believe that perhaps it was just all some wild fantasy that he dreamed up. But, why would he? Everything else had happened.

The gunmen at the clinic, Moriarty was in the room with him during it all and then Sherlock turning up, saving him. _Oh Christ Sherlock_ , John thought panicky. What if Sherlock came in and saw everything? But, there wasn’t anything to be found. He knew he came on the window and himself. He checked his hand and it didn’t feel sticky. What the fuck was going on?

It was then that his phone chimed at him. He leaned over, taking it up into his hand and smiled when he saw a message from JM.

_I took liberty after you’d fallen asleep to make my way into your room. Don’t worry. Sherlock didn’t come out of his room. But, I couldn’t leave everything as it was if he did decide to grace you with his almighty presents…_

John couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was like Moriarty was calling the kennel black. He continued to read.

_I know everything must seem surreal to you. It is for me as well. I’ve never opened up to anyone. Let alone felt like I could. I’m a man that shouldn’t have a pressure point. It would get to dangerous for that said individual. I should just walk away. That would be the smartest thing for the both of us but I can’t seem to bring myself to do that. Not to mention I know how much you love danger. Something about you, Johnny. Like a moth to a flame. Me being the moth and you being the flame. I’m drawn to you. So, I do hope you’ll give me a chance. I know I could just kidnap you but I’m told that would be frowned upon. I guess that means this is up to you where it goes from here. I’ll be waiting intently for your reply. Oh, and I did kiss your head before I left just as you asked. Have a good day, pet. Yours truly, Jim. –JM_

John sat there, rereading the words over and over. Moriarty actually wanted to open up to him. Even more so, it sounded like he wanted to have a relationship with him. But, John wasn’t gay. It didn’t stop him from experimenting back in college or back when he was a soldier. With no women around at times, you still needed to scratch that itch somehow. His mate Jackson really knew how to make him scream. Not to mention what he had done last night in front of the window. Moriarty was jacking off with him and came at the same time. Even though they weren’t in the same room didn’t mean shit. He wasn’t thinking about a woman. He was only thinking about Moriarty’s cock fucking into him, the sounds of their skin slapping together. Beaded with sweat and screaming his name the moment he came. John covered his hands over his face because he was literally screwed at this point. All he could think about was Moriarty. How he wanted to suck his cock as the Irishman ran his hands through his sandy hair, praising him for doing such a good job.

“Christ, I’m fucked,” he said to the empty room. He felt the urge to just lie in bed for the rest of the day but something told him that he had to get up and face the music. So, with a heavy sigh he threw back the covers, swung his legs over the side and stood. He was about to grab some clothes when he noticed there were some lying out on the chair in the corner of the room. John couldn’t remember ever doing that and realized that Moriarty must have done it while he was here. “Brilliant,” John said flatly. “He is picking out my clothes now.” John grabbed the clothes, his phone, before headed downstairs to the bathroom, uncaring if Sherlock or Mrs. Husdon were anywhere within view. Luckily for him the flat was empty because Sherlock’s bedroom door was standing open. He quickly looked inside but saw that he wasn’t anywhere in sight. John made his way into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. When he was finished he dried himself off, dressed and headed into the kitchen. He placed the tea pot onto the stove and grabbed some biscuits from their jar that sat next to the microwave.

John stood there lost in his own thoughts as he slowly chewed. The events yesterday were…he believed insane would be a good word for it. Moriarty showed up at his clinic trying to…trying to what exactly? The Irishman seemed intent on taking his clothes off and running himself up against John. _Jesus, was his plan to fuck me then_ , John asked himself. He took a big bite of his biscuit and started to choke, coughing as he did to get his lungs clear to once again breath. John grabbed a glass and turned on the faucet, filling it up with water. He drank it down just in time for the tea pot to whistle at him. He took several breaths in before he moved over to turn off the stove and remove the tea pot off the burner.

Instead of finishing making himself the tea, John walked over to where his shoes and coat were by the door. He slipped on his shoes, pulled on his coat and headed out the door. When he was outside he looked around and the busy street. People ignored him as they rushed passed, thinking about their next date, or if they were going to get into college. Silly trivial things that didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Then he snorted at himself as he realized he was thinking more like Sherlock. He let out a small sigh with now thinking about Sherlock and what he said last night. He turned and started to walk, hands in his coat pockets as he weaved passed people.

It wasn’t long until he found himself sitting at the park, not too far from their flat. He was looking out over the other families and couples enjoying their day when a man sat down on the bench beside him.

The man opened a newspaper and pretended to be reading it when he said, “Good morning, Doctor Watson.”

John turned to the man. He was a hefty man, wearing a trench coat and fedora. Every fiber in John’s body told him to either fight or flight. Since he was in a park with small children around he would need to go with the second option. He stood to his feet and was about to walk away when the man’s next few words halted him.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Doctor. However, I do have implicit instructions that allow me to use force if necessary. The choice is yours.”

John’s hands balled into fits at his sides. He didn’t want this man to hurt anyone so he slowly sat back down. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”

“You may call me Mr. Collins,” before he added, “And I promise that all your questions will be answered but you must come with me in order for that to happen.” He continued looking at his newspaper without looking at John.

John took a moment to scan the park. He didn’t see any suspicious activity and anyone who walked by paid them no mind. John felt the urge to pull out his phone and text…who would he text? Would he text Sherlock or Moriarty? Both men wanted to protect him but he didn’t want either man to get hurt on his account. So, he closed his eyes and let out a frustrated huff. He then turned to Mr. Collins and hissed, “If I go with you willingly that means you’ll leave everyone I care about alone.”

“My employer has no reason to bother any other of your friends or family, Doctor Watson. Just as long as you accompany me, there will be nothing to fear.”

John highly doubted that. Mr. Collins, whoever he was, came here with the intent of leaving with him no matter what. Whatever that entailed, John wasn’t certain of. It just didn’t make sense to him. Of all the people that John knew, why go after him? It seemed he wasn’t going to get any questions answered unless he left with this man. Finally, thinking it over John said, “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Collins, folding up his paper and places it under his arm as he stood. “I need for you to leave your phone on the bench.”

John didn’t want to do that. He was about to protest when he saw a homeless man with black unruly hair and beard, staggering down the sidewalk, with a brown paper bag in hand. The homeless man was drinking from the bag like there was something hidden within. If John didn’t know any better he’d swear the man looked like Sherlock. With his hopes high, he took his phone out of his pocket and laid it on the bench. He turned to Mr. Collins and said, “Lead the way.”

As John followed the man, they were walking by the homeless man when he bumped into John and slurred, “Sorry, sir. I’m cluing for looks.”

John tried not to smile and instead pushed the drunken man away. “Get off me.”

“Sorry. I’m off,” the homeless man mumbled before he turned and walked off.

“You alright, Doctor Watson?” Mr. Collins asked.

“Yes, I’m alright. Let’s go,” John replied, fixing himself. He hoped to God that Sherlock placed some sort of tracker on his person. With bumping into him, he was sure of it. He didn’t mind being used as bait. If this was going to somehow catch whoever it was that wanted him then so be it.

They walked through some rather large bushes, out of sight of the public eye. It led them out of the park and onto a side street where a black van was park by the curb. Two men appeared from the alley behind him while the door to the van slid open to reveal who was hidden inside.

“Well, well, it seems our paths were destined to cross again, eh Doc?” Vince said as he stepped out of the van, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

John turn to find the two men that stood behind him here Pete and Rusty. The very two he kicked the crap out of back at the clinic. They looked like they were in pain but held tight to the guns they held in their hands. Neither man stood close enough for John to attack to try and wrestle a gun away from. Seems the element of surprise was gone and if he tried to fight he might end of shot. That wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. He turned back to Vince and huffed, “Thought you were dead for good. Guess I’ll need to have a talk with a few of my people.”

“What can I say? I have friends in very high places,” Vince smirked.

“Wouldn’t that actually be considered low places?” John snapped back.

Vince laughed. “You are too much, Doc. But, enough with this banter, it’s time for you to come with us.”

John snorted. “What makes you so sure I’ll go with you willingly if I didn’t the first time?”

Vince smiled mischievously like a snake as he took out his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen before turning it so John could see.

John’s heart sank. The air from his lunges vanished, as if Vince was constricting him so he couldn’t breathe. On the screen was a bound Jim Moriarty. The Irishman looked a little worse for wear with a bloody nose, cut lip, and a shiner that cover most of his left eye. His dress shirt was torn open and there was blood on his wife beater. He had no shoes, shocks or trousers. Only black silky boxers. However, his facial expression was as cold as ice. John thought if looks could kill these men would be skinned alive. John looked up at Vince and said, “Do you have any idea the very gravity of your situation is?”

“No. I don’t think you appreciate yours, Doc,” Vince bit back.

“You really don’t get what you’ve done, do you?” John asked.

“What? We got the drop on your boyfriend when he was coming out of your flat for what we assumed was a late night booty call.” Vince and his men laughed. “As you can see he put up one hell of a fight. He might even have a few broken ribs and a sprained ankle. But, what do I know. I’m not his Doctor.” Vince smiled at John, knowingly what John was going to chose to do.

John felt horrible about Moriarty getting hurt. Why, he wasn’t for certain. Moriarty was supposed to be the enemy. He was a psychopath, a twisted individual that would blow up child to keep the game with Sherlock more interesting. So, why did feel an urge to do whatever he could to save the crazed Irishman life?

“I know what you’re thinking about doing, Johnny. As noble as it would be I ask that you ignore all those conflicting feelings you have towards me. There is no need to feel the way you do. Besides I can handle myself. So, I want you to be a good boy and stay away. Do you hear me, pet? Don’t you dare…”

From off camera an arm came into view. It slapped Moriarty across the face. John flinched at the sound. That was defiantly going to leave a mark.

Moriarty spit some blood out of his mouth and smirked. “Is that all you got? You slap like your father. You know after he and I…”

This time there was the sound of a loud clap. Moriarty hissed through greeted teeth. The hand in view held a riding crop and slapped it across Moriarty’s bare legs five times, all in the same spot. Moriarty’s legs were shaking and bleeding.

“Stop,” John shouted. “Please, just stop it. Stop hurting him.”

The hand halted it midair, just before it would have struck a sixth time.

“I’ll go with you. Please, don’t hurt him again,” John pleaded.

“We won’t hurt him as long as you corporate, Doctor. Watson,” Vince sneered.

“I will. You have my word,” John replied.

“Alright then, Doc,” Vince said. “Hands behind your back.”

John did as he was told and placed his hands behind him. Rusty handcuffed his hands together as tight as he could. John hissed from the metal biting into his skin and realized this wasn’t going to be a pleasant trip.

“Alright, Doc,” Vince mused. “You’re future a waits.”

John was tossed into the back of the van, his thoughts buzzing like angry bees in his head. What was going to happen to him or Moriarty for that matter? Could he bargain for the Irishman’s life since it seemed they didn’t know who he was? He sure as hell was going to try. The only other hope he still had was that homeless man. He was hoping it was Sherlock because if it wasn’t he was as good as dead.

*****

Mycroft sat at his desk, chair turned to the side, his head back against the seat and he his eyes closed. “That’s it,” he moans softly. “It feels so good…” he suddenly jumped and turned towards the door.

Sherlock was walking long strides up to his desk and rolled his eyes when he saw Greg was on his knees on the other side of the desk, sucking his brother’s cock. “Really? Here? Of all places?”

Greg sat back on his feet, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. While Mycroft tucked himself back into his trousers. Neither man looking at the other as they did so.

The elder Holmes frowned at his younger sibling and sneered, “We take what we can get. Now, what the hell do you want, Sherlock?”

Sherlock smirked. He was about to sit down in the chair across from the desk but decided against it not knowing for sure if they had sex in it or not. The thought made Sherlock’s stomach queasy. “My apologies to have intruded during your per-coitus ritual but we do have more pressing matters at hand.”

Greg stood to his feet and huffed, “Jesus Christ, Sherlock. What the hell could be so important?”

“Moriarty was kidnapped outside our flat,” Sherlock replied.

“What?” Both Greg and Mycroft said in unison.

“It seems whoever these men are might try to use Moriarty as leverage to get to John,” Sherlock said.

“Why in the hell would they do that?” Greg asked. “Don’t they know who Moriarty is?”

“I don’t think so. If they did I don’t think they would have tried anything,” Mycroft said.

“Precisely,” Sherlock added. “I think we need to use John as bait. I have an idea that if we…”

“Whoa, slow down, Sherlock,” Greg huffed. “You want to use John as bait?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“Are you insane? What if we don’t see him again?” Greg snapped.

“I have it all planned out. When John usually has a lot on his mind he usually goes to the park. I’ll keep watch on him wearing something so he doesn’t know it is me. If something should happen I’ll be sure to make a move,” Sherlock explained.

“What if they use Moriarty against him?” Mycroft asked.

“I have no doubt they won’t,” Sherlock replied. “We just need to make sure I get this tracker place on John before they take him. It will lead us to whomever it is that is behind this.”

“So, you really are going to go through with this?” Greg asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, don’t try to act so intimidating, Inspector. You just had my brother’s prick in your mouth,” Sherlock mused.

Greg dropped his arms to his sides as his face turned an embarrassing pink color.

Sherlock turned and headed for the door when Mycroft grabbed his coat sleeve to stop him. “Mycroft, I don’t have the time for this.”

“I know John means a great deal to you, Sherlock,” Mycroft began, “Just remember we have your back if anything should go wrong.”

“I think Lestrade is doing wonders to suck all your brains out,” Sherlock said.

Mycroft sighed. “I mean it, Sherlock,” Mycroft whispered softly. “If you need anything at all…”

“Just wait for my text,” Sherlock said.

“Alright,” Mycroft replied as he released Sherlock arm, watching as his brother disappeared from sight.

Greg walked up behind Mycroft and wrapped his arms the elder Holmes waist. “Do you think he releases his feelings for John?”

Mycroft shook his head. “He would never look at John the way I do you.” Mycroft turned around in Greg’s arms.

“Why is that?” Greg asked.

“Because, he is Sherlock Holmes,” Mycroft replied. “That’s all he will ever be.”

*****

An hour later Mycroft got the text he’d been waiting on from Sherlock.

_They took John. The tracker is on him. Get ready to move. – SH_

Mycroft showed it to Greg who called into Donovan. “We need every available copper on standby. Wait for my single.” He looked at Mycroft who waited patiently for Sherlock’s next message. It felt like it was taking too long. Then another message came through. It was an address.

Mycroft texted a message back to Sherlock.

_Got it. On our way. – MH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Leave a message. Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all. I hope you enjoy this chapter. More to come soon. I promise.

When Moriarty slowly came to consciousness, his head was throbbing like he’d been hit by a two-by-four. He tried to open his eyes but the light was making it unbearable to focus. Instead, he tried to move and found his hands were bound behind him. He assessed himself for further injury, realizing he could taste blood. His nose hurt which meant for a bloody nose. It was also hard to breathe because his side hurt. He believed he had a few broken ribs. Trying to open his eyes again he blinked a few times, hissing in pain, which made him flinch from a sharp stinging pain from his lip.  Glancing down, he could see that his lip was swollen and slip open, and his left eye hurt like hell. Most likely he had a shiner that covered most of his left eye. That was probably the reason he passed out. Looking down at himself his dress shirt was torn open and there was blood on his wife beater. His shoes, shocks and trousers were gone, leaving only his black silky boxers.

Moriarty closed his eyes and switched his thoughts to his mind’s hard drive. The last place he recalled being was in John’s bedroom. Moriarty remembered Moran cleaning up the mess and then leaving the room. The Irishman explored the doctor’s room, seeing what interesting little treasures were hidden within. He stopped in front of John’s pants drawer and opened it. A wickedly intriguing smile spread wide across his face when he reached into the drawer and pulled out a red pair of pants. Moriarty moaned in the back of his throat while imagining his little toy soldier wearing nothing but these. It was enough of a wild idea that Moriarty stuffed them into his pocket and closed the drawer.

Moriarty walked over to John’s closet and wrinkled his noses at the second hand clothes hanging up. He made a mental note to get John a new wardrobe if they should been seen together in public. “Only the best for my, pet,” Moriarty whispered to himself. He heard John make a noise and he turned. Luckily, John didn’t wake which gave Moriarty the opportunity to pick out what clothes he wanted John to wear and placed them on the chair in the corner.

When he was finished with that he turned and made his way over to the bed. He stared down at the sleeping sandy hair blonde that he felt an odd sort of fondness towards. Moriarty wasn’t really sure about his feeling for John. Why they ever came about in the first place? But, he was certain that he wanted John in his life. Whatever that would entail. He wasn’t for sure how it would work out but he was hoping that John could help him out. It did take two to make a relationship work. Moriarty shook his head at himself for even thinking they could make it work but for some reason he wanted to try.  

Moriarty sat down on the side of the bed. He continued to stare when he heard John say his names.

“Mmmm, Jim,” John mumbled softly.

Moriarty leaned down and whispered, “I’m here, Johnny.”

“You here watching me?” John mumbled sleepily. He tried to open his eyes but Moriarty was shushing him.

“It’s alright, Johnny. Just go back to sleep,” Moriarty whispered.

John yawned big before he said, “Alright.” He turned over on his side and fell back into a sound slumber.

Moriarty ran a gentle hand through John’s hair, causing John to hum with delight. The Irishman smiled and then kissed John on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweet prince.” Moriarty stood and walked out of the room, making sure to close the door as quiet as possible. He walked down the first flight of stairs to the sitting room where Moran stood waiting for him. It seemed all was still quiet. Moriarty made his way over to John’s chair and sat down in it for moment. He pulled out his phone and brought up a message with John’s name on it. He started to type a message out to John.

_I took liberty after you’d fallen asleep to make my way into your room. Don’t worry. Sherlock didn’t come out of his room. But, I couldn’t leave everything as it was if he did decide to grace you with his almighty presents…_

Moriarty snickered at the thought. Sherlock was just as dramatic as he was. It was easy at times to compare the two even if in other ways they were incredibly different.

_I know everything must seem surreal to you. It is for me as well. I’ve never opened up to anyone. Let alone felt like I could. I’m a man that shouldn’t have a pressure point. It would get to dangerous for that said individual. I should just walk away. That would be the smartest thing for the both of us but I can’t seem to bring myself to do that. Not to mention I know how much you love danger. Something about you, Johnny. Like a moth to a flame. Me being the moth and you being the flame. I’m drawn to you. So, I do hope you’ll give me a chance. I know I could just kidnap you but I’m told that would be frowned upon. I guess that means this is up to you where it goes from here. I’ll be waiting intently for your reply. Oh, and I did kiss your head before I left just as you asked. Have a good day, pet._

_Forever yours…_

Jim hit the back button. He didn’t want to be that forward. Not yet.

_Love always…_

Jim hit the back button once again. It still didn’t sound right and the last thing he wanted was he to scare Johnny away so soon. He needed to think of something but what? He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Finally it came to him.

_Yours truly, Jim. –JM_

Jim read over it once more before he hit the send button. When he was finished he stood and walked out of the flat. That’s when everything went fuzzy. He remembers Moran yelling to him to run but when he did something grabbed him from behind. Moriarty turned and started to fight, throwing his fists at anything that moved. However, it wasn’t enough. He got one final blow to the head and was out like a light. So, why was he here?

“I see you’re finally awake,” a man’s voice said.

Moriarty lifted his head and opened his eyes to get a look at his capture. The man looked far older than he probably was. He face looked pale against his grey hair, grey bread, and silver-blue eyes. He wore a grey suit that defined his once toned body. Now, the man looked like he was knocking on deaths door.

“I’m sorry about my men but it seemed this was the only way to gain Doctor Watson’s attention,” the man explained. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh no, this is just fine. It wasn’t like I was doing anything important or some nonsense like that. No, this is totally fine. Actually, it is quite fun. I don’t recall ever being kidnapped before. Guess there’s a first time for everything,” Moriarty said sarcastically, smiling up at his capture.

“Right,” the man said, a little loss for words. “Anyway, when the time comes my men will alert me when they have John. That’s when you’ll come in.”

“Oh, I get it. I’m the damsel and he is my knight to come save me from the evil…” Moriarty looked the man up and down and said, “What are you anyway? An Ogre?”

The man laughed. “Not in this fairytale I’m afraid.”

“Alright,” Moriarty said, studying the man. “You’re the witch in the candy house that ate those poor helpless children.”

“Getting warmer,” the man replied.

“Oh, wait. I see it now,” Moriarty said. “You’re the evil step-mother.”

The man stepped closer to Moriarty and got up into his face. “More like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.”

Moriarty gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat him up.”

The man smirked, “No, not exactly.”

“Then what is it? Why do you want my Johnny?” Moriarty asked, genuinely curious.

 

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust. “He isn’t yours to claim.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you want him all to yourself,” Moriarty huffed. “I mean look at you. Seems you’ll be meeting the death soon enough and when you do I’ll be fucking Johnny balls deep like there’s no…”

The man backed handed Moriarty across the face. “Shut your mouth you filthy little faggot.”

It took Moriarty a moment to gain back his focus. He was surprised with how brittle the man looked that he still had that kind of fire left. It seemed he’d struck a sensitive nerve with speaking about Johnny in such a manner. He filed that information away for later. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I highly doubt that,” the man snarled as he turned and headed for the door. “In the mean time, I think you need a little time out. Enjoy being alone.”

“No, come back,” Moriarty was shouting but his words fell on deaf ears as the man turned off the lights and walked out of the room. “NO! You can’t leave me like this. You fucking, arsehole! I’ll make you into shoes!” Moriarty was trying to struggle to free himself but stopped when pain in his ankle shot up his leg. It seemed he had a sprain which would make it even harder to get out of this mess by himself. He needed helped. As much as he hated to think that John would risk his own life for his was both stupid and arousing. John needed to stay away. But he knew his soldier would come for him and he hoped when he did that Johnny would be accompanied by big Government and his pet’s men. Otherwise there would be no hope. He knew Sherlock would think of something. As much as he hated to think he would be placed in his debt. It would be better than being here in this rat and sewer filled shit hole. “For fuck sake, I’m bored,” Moriarty shouted, skulking as he waited for the man to return.

*****

Moriarty was thinking about what John did for him last night. The way John looked stroking himself, while also fingering himself at the same time. It looked was a fantasy come to life. Ever sense John came into the picture he saw him as a target. That was until the incident at the pool. John would have giving up his own life for Sherlock. Why? Because John was only doing what he thought he had to do. The only thing that made sense at the time and it was so unpredictable it thrown Moriarty slightly off guard. Luckily for him he recovered within seconds without even Sherlock noticing. However, that’s when John became his new favorite.

Moriarty was ripped from his thoughts when the door opened again and the man came strolling back towards him, with a camera on a tripod. He looked to have a little color back in his cheeks and Moriarty wondered what he’d done to look so different.

“Seems my men have gotten John cornered. It’s time to do your part,” the man said, setting up the camera so it faced Moriarty.

“What if I don’t? Hmmm? What then?” Moriarty asked.

The man smiled wickedly. “Oh, I think in your current state with speak for itself. Don’t you?”

Moriarty smiled back at the man. “So, it’s a game you want to play. Very well.”

The man tapped a button on the camera and a little red dot lit up.

Moriarty couldn’t see John but he could hear him and it made him feel horrible that he was being used like this against John. He didn’t want John to give in so willingly. After all, Moriarty was a killer. It would be in John’s best interest to stay away. With that in mind, Moriarty looked right at the camera and said, “I know what you’re thinking about doing, Johnny. As noble as it would be I ask that you ignore all those conflicting feelings you have towards me. There is no need to feel the way you do. Besides I can handle myself. So, I want you to be a good boy and stay away. Do you hear me, pet? Don’t you dare…”

Moriarty saw the slap coming but had not time to turn as he was slapped across the face. It stung like hell but Moriarty didn’t want to show signs of fear. He spit some blood out of his mouth and smirked. “Is that all you got? You slap like your father. You know after he and I…”

Moriarty was focused on the man as he pulled out a riding crop from his jacket pocket. This time he was able to mentally prepare himself as it sung down and connected across his bare legs, causing him to hiss through greeted teeth. The man slapped it across Moriarty’s bare legs five times, all in the same spot. Moriarty’s legs were shaking and bleeding.

Moriarty could hear the John’s voice. “Stop,” John shouted. “Please, just stop it. Stop hurting him.” It made Moriarty’s heart sink with guilt. He shouldn’t have gotten caught. This was his fault.

The man halted his hand in midair, just before it would have struck a sixth time. Moriarty was at least thankful for that.

Moriarty heard John say, “I’ll go with you. Please, don’t hurt him again.” It almost was like he was begging for them not to hurt him. Why would he be begging? He isn’t as good man. Far from it in fact, so why was John trying to save him?

Moriarty heard a familiar voice say, “We won’t hurt him as long as you corporate, Doctor. Watson.” The voice belonged to Vince. Moriarty knew the little fucker was dead. He’ll need to make sure next time that Vince will remain dead and Moriarty will be more than happy to do it.

“I will. You have my word,” John replied. When Moriarty heard this he wanted to scream out and tell John no, that he needed to stay away. But, the man held the riding crop firm in his hands. Ready to strike if Moriarty spoke up in protest, but Moriarty decided to remain silent. He knew what John was going to chose to do. Maybe they could work together to get the hell out of here.

“Alright then, Doc,” Vince said. “Hands behind your back.” That was the last thing Moriarty heard before the man before him turned off the camera.

“Well, it seems you’re getting what you wanted,” Moriarty huffed.

“Indeed, it seems I am. Thank you for adding me with that.” the man replied softly.

“Glad I could help,” Moriarty grumbled.

The man smirked. “And I know the question on your mind is what I want with him.”

“I won’t lie, the thought has crossed my mind,” Moriarty said.

There came a sudden knock on the door. “Seems our time is up for now.”

“Fuck,” Moriarty groaned, throwing a slight tantrum. “But, I’m bored.”

The man didn’t say another word as he walked toward the door. He switched off the lights before closing the door behind him, leaving Moriarty once again with only his crazed thoughts to keep him company. “This fucking sucks,” Moriarty shouted. “This is why I’m going to live with mom!” Moriarty lowered his head in defeat. He hated being alone but was worse, he’d rather be alone than knowing his John was going to suffer the same fate. He didn’t want that for John. He wanted him to stay away but that wasn’t possible anymore. “Sherlock better be the woodman’s to come chop up the wolf. Wait,” Moriarty paused before he added, “Does that make me grandma?” Moriarty shook his head of the thought before he smiled at the imagine of John in nothing but a red cape and his red pants he’d found in his drawer. “I’ll be your big bad wolf, my little red.” It was a thought that he filed away for later.

*****

Sherlock was pleased he was able to go unnoticed by the other man enough to plant a tracking device on John. He was also happy that John was able to play along. When he was out of sight he got into a cab and pulled out his phone.

“Where too, sir?” The cabbie asked.

“Just start moving. I’ll give you intrusions when to turn,” Sherlock barked.

The man frowned as he grumbled, “Yes, sir.”

Sherlock stared at his phone, telling driver to make a right then a left. It seemed they were headed for an isolated area. One that Sherlock rarely ventured too. He texted his brother that he needed to have his men ready to move because he was about to come to the location of where they were taking John. It seemed surreal when the cabbie stopped outside a large iron fence.

“I am sorry, sir,” the cabbie said. “This is a far as I go.”  

Sherlock threw some bills at the man and got out. He watched the cab drive off before turning to look at the house beyond the iron fence. There were men with guns guarding this old looking mansion. A black van sat in front of the door and Sherlock realized it had to be the van that transported John. He pulled out his phone and texted the address to Mycroft. It would take them a little time to get there so Sherlock began to search for weaknesses in order to gain access inside. He had to get to John before something bad should happen to his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. ^_^ More to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the kicker guys. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. It made me laugh and have all sorts of feels. Let that be a warning. lol. But, it is still good.

When the door opened again, Moriarty was expecting it to be the older man, but instead his dark chocolate eyes met those baby blues and he felt a mixture of bliss and worry. “Johnny,” he said softly, pulling at his restraints. He wanted to hold him so badly but with being bound it wouldn’t be possible.

When John saw Moriarty in his weakened state he rushed over to him. “Jesus, Jim,” John said worriedly. He began to look over the Irishman’s injuries as best he could. John cursed under his breath; hating the fact his hands remained bound behind him because it made it harder to check over the Irishman properly. Instead he decided to lighten the mood a little as he said, “You look like hell chewed you up and spit you back out.”

Moriarty smiled weakly up at John and said, “I bet you get all girls with that line. They would be lined up around the corner just knocking on your door.”

John snorted. “Not really. I’d get slapped more than likely.”

“Well, play your cards right, Captain. I’ll be more than happy to slap that cute little arse while I’m fucking it.”

John’s eyes widened, his mouth went dry, and he was sure he turned a bring shade of pink with embarrassment. It wasn’t often anyone used his rank so suggestively. And the image he described, John now pictured in his own mind, and it was intoxicating. However, this really wasn’t the place or time. “Jim, I…”

John was cut off when Vince grabbed him and forced the doctor against the wall, pressing his body against John’s, keeping him penned while his hands roamed over his body. “I want to rip you apart,” Vince sneered.

John glared at him. He wasn’t sure why Vince despised him so much. He didn’t even know the man. “Let go of me,” John snarled.

“Or what?” Vince dared, grabbing John’s crotch.

“Release him or I’ll put a bullet in your head,” came a venomous snarl from behind him.

All eyes turned to find Sherlock was standing in the doorway, gun in hand that was pointed at Vince. Moran walked in behind him, ignoring everyone in the room as he made his way over to his boss.

“Took you long enough,” Moriarty huffed.

“Sorry, sir. I got a little tied up but Sherlock was able to free me,” Moran said as he pulled out a knife and started to free him.

“Well, see to it that it doesn’t happen again,” Moriarty snapped.

“Yes, sir,” Moran replied as he continued to free Moriarty.

Vince spun John to stand in front of him, using the doctor as a shield. “If you shoot Sherlock, I’ll fire before the bullet reaches me, killing your mate here.”

Sherlock smirked. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

Moriarty rolled his eyes as Moran finished freeing him. He rubbed his sore wrists as he remained seated. With his injuries it would be hard for him to get away as quickly as he’d like so he would just need to wait this out.

Vince narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. “I’ll do it.”

“But, wouldn’t your employer be upset?” Sherlock took the picture out of his pocket and tossed it on the ground in front of them. “Or better yet, your father.”

They looked down at the picture and Vince laughed. “For claiming to be a genius, you missed a valuable clue, Mr. Holmes.”

John’s eyes grew wide, shocked beyond words as he stared at the photograph before him. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tightening as his world was crumbling down around him. This was the beginning of the end. He slowly looked up and met Sherlock’s gaze, all color drained from his face. “W – Where did you get that?”

Moriarty looked from the picture and up at John, frowning he said, “Oh Johnny, he’s your…”

“Hello, John,” came a new voice from the doorway. Sherlock moved over by Moriarty and Moran, gun pointed at the door while Moran’s gun was pointed in Vince’s direction.

Standing in the door was the older man that had been torturing Moriarty. He held a gun in his hand and it was pointing at Greg’s head.

“Oh Lestrade, you had to go and get yourself caught,” Sherlock huffed.

“What? Not like you had the situation under control, Sherlock,” Greg snapped back.

“Still, you could have waited. I would have had things resolved,” Sherlock bit back.

“I very much doubt that,” Moriarty murmured softly.

Sherlock glared at him. “Don’t see you doing any better.”

“Hello, injured,” Moriarty sang, pointing at his foot. “Besides I could do better.”

“Oh, really. How would you…” Sherlock started to say but was cut off by John.

“Shut it, the lot of you,” John exclaimed. The room fell silent. John’s attention went to the older man. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He closed his mouth again, trying to organize his thoughts best he could. What he wanted to do was scream at the man. He wanted to beat him and tell him to fuck off but instead the words were out before he could stop himself. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I should be,” he man replied. “But, I’ve been able to find a way to keep myself alive.”

“Did you sell your soul?” John sneered.

The man snorted. “Still the little sarcastic shit you always were, I see.”

“No thanks to you, Winston,” John hissed bitterly.

Sherlock looked between John and the old man. He started to analyze and compare the same characteristic between them. They had the same lean cheek bones, strong chin, same nose structure, blue eyes, the way they held themselves, and the same ‘I’m going to kill you look’ – when it finally clicked, he slapped his forehead and shouted, “Oh, he’s your father.”

“Christ sakes Sherlock, timing,” John said sternly.

Sherlock looked at him and saw the anger building rapidly in his friend. “No good?”

John shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh of frustration. He was dealing with too many madmen in one room and he wasn’t sure of the outcome. All he knew was this wasn’t going to end well. “You are a right bloody idiot sometimes. Do you know that?”

“Well, I guess it shows I’m still a little bit human,” Sherlock snapped back.

Both men stared hard at the other. Neither moving as everyone else in the room remained quiet to see how this played out between the two.

“You heard that,” John finally said. “How?”

“When Jim dialed the coppers it was being recorded. Seems you do have a type,” Sherlock replied bitterly.

“Sherlock, listen to me,” John said.

“No, John. What more is there to say? That we’ve been living together for two years now and all that time you mentioned how you weren’t gay. That you and I were never a couple and come to find out you were lying about it.” Sherlock sat down on the floor and placed his elbows on his knees so his hands rested under his chin. “I guess I’m not that important to you.”

“Christ, Sherlock,” John huffed as he leaned forward and thrust his head back as hard as he could. It connected with Vince’s nose. Blood started to gush from his nose. John rushed over to Sherlock and said, “You are important to me, Sherlock. Always have been and you always will be.”

Sherlock smiled as he stood. “I know.” He made John turned around and he removed the cuffs from the doctor’s wrists before handing him the gun.

It dawned on John then what Sherlock actually had done. “You little shit,” John snapped. “You did that just so I would free myself from Vince so you could free me.”

“I do love how things work out when I know you so well, John.” Sherlock glared at Moriarty and hissed, “Unlike some people.”

Moriarty’s face twisted into something dark as he slowly stood to his feet. Moran started to reach out to help him boss but Moriarty waved a dismissive hand. “Seems to me you weren’t enough of a man for him,” Moriarty hissed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sherlock scowled at Moriarty.

Moriarty snorted as he bragged, “It means, Virgin. I’m Mr. Sex and you haven’t got a clue how to give Johnny what he so desperately craves.” He looked over at John, gesturing at himself, licking his lips as he added, “And what he craves…” He looked over at Sherlock, smiling mockingly, “Is some sweet Irish tea.”

As Moriarty spoke, Sherlock’s hands balled into fists at his sides. The more the serpent hissed his ridiculous nonsense the more Sherlock hated him. Sherlock wasn’t a virgin. He wasn’t alarmed about sex like some would think him to be. And with the right person, he could please his partner. He’d always been fascinated by the human body and the different things it could do. It was more often than not he’d push the limits of his own body. So, why was he so angry?

“Sherlock,” John said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. When he meant Sherlock’s gaze he could see that Sherlock looked like a small child. His friend didn’t understand why he would say one thing and obviously do another. It was hard to explain and now really wasn’t the time for this. “Sherlock, I promise to explain this to you. I will. But, now isn’t the time.”

“No, I want to know why you think I’m not good enough for you,” Sherlock snapped.

“Sherlock, for fuck sakes, please…” John tried to reason with Sherlock when they jumped from the sound of gunfire. They turned and saw Winston’s gun was pointed up at the ceiling, and then pointed the gun back at Greg’s head. Vince took the opportunity to make his way over by Winston.

“I hate to break this little queer fest but John has to the count of five to come with me or I’ll shoot the only innocent man in this room,” Winston snarled. “Five…”

Greg closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He didn’t want to die but he didn’t want this man to take John either. He opened his eyes, looking at John and said, “You can’t go with him, John.”

“Four…” Winston hissed, pressing the gun harder into Greg’s temple.

“John, listen to me. You can’t. Whatever you do,” Greg spoke hurriedly.

“Three…” Winston said, cocking his gun.

“Stand strong,” Greg said, closing his eyes again. He was bracing himself as a memory of Mycroft using his umbrella to shield them both from the falling rain and smiling at him would be the last thing to flash across his mind’s eye. It made him feel peace and a slight regret he would not get more time with him.

“Two…” Winston growled, smiling wickedly.

“STOP!” John exclaimed. There was no way in hell he would let Greg die. Not like this. “You can’t. I’ll…go with you.”

“John, you can’t,” Sherlock snapped.

John glared at him. “I’m not going to let Greg die. Besides this isn’t anyone’s burden to bear but my own.”

“That’s not true, Johnny,” Moriarty said.

John looked over at Irishman, shaking his head. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

Moriarty took a painful step towards John but kept his face impassive. He didn’t want to show any vulnerability because it was a sign of weakness. And he wasn’t weak. “Don’t what?” Moriarty asked sincerely. He was truthful before with John. He really did want to be with him. Which meant his past would be part of who he was, just like his own. It made him who he was now and Moriarty needed John to see that.

John pinched the brim of his nose. It was like he was cursed to deal with these two over grown suicidal children. _Why me_ , was the question he continued to ask with no hope of any sort of answer he’d be satisfied with. It was as if he were stuck with them and now with knowing his father was alive, wanting him for only God knows what, it didn’t actually seem all that bad anymore. John loved Sherlock with all his heart. He would do anything for him. Hell he even killed for him. He was his best friend and he couldn’t see life without him in it. As for Moriarty, he was new and exciting. A new toy, dangerous and unpredictable with every moment that ticked by. But, could he actually learn to love him? Moriarty had killed people just for fun. John had killed people but he always had a good reason behind everything he’d done. He was a good man. So how could he be with a man like Moriarty? How could he ever justify the horrible things the Irishman had done? He couldn’t. To say opposites attract in their case would be like night and day being able to exist at the same time. There just wasn’t a way for it to work.

Moriarty leaned in and whispered, “Take the hostage out of the equation.”

“How?” John asked.

“Shoot the hostage,” Moriarty replied simply.

John looked over at Moriarty in bewilderment. “What?”

Sherlock smiled. “That’s brilliant,” he said softly. “It would be perfect. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because I’m smarter than you,” Moriarty said.

“No you’re not,” Sherlock snapped.  

John was mortified by Sherlock actually agreeing with Moriarty. How could they think about shooting Greg? What if something worse came of it? He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something should go wrong. “Are you two out of your fuc…” before John could get the words out, Moriarty took the gun from Moran’s hand, pointed the gun and fired.

Greg yelled from the pain that now shot through him. He slowly fell to the ground, no longer shielding Winston, and holding onto his left leg. “You shot me! I can’t believe it! You fucking shot me!”

Moriarty shrugged. “Better me than him.” He gestured toward Winston as he handed the gun back to Moran.

“Well, that was certainly uninspected,” Winston said as he looked down at the Inspector, holding his leg while cursing at the Irishman. He motioned for Vince to exit the room and he slowly back out, still pointing his gun at Greg. “I guess I’ll catch you around, kid.”

“It would be a cold day in hell, old man,” John growled back.

Winston smirked at him. “I suggest you bundle up then,” he said as he quickly closing the door.

Sherlock rushed over to the door and tried to open it but it was locked. John rushed over to Greg to tend to his wound and Moran wrapped an arm around Moriarty’s waist so the Irishman could lean on him for more support so he could continue to stand.

“Sherlock, it can’t open from the inside,” Moriarty said.

Sherlock turned on his heel and said, “How would you know?”

“I’ve been in this bloody room for hours. He knocked on the door for someone to open it,” Moriarty huffed.

“Oh,” Sherlock said.

“Now, if you’re done with that,” John snapped at Sherlock as he took off his coat then his jumper. He placed his jumper on Greg’s wound and said to Sherlock, “Nurse, I need you to press here.”

Sherlock fell to his knees and pressed down on Greg’s leg, causing the Inspector to howl in pain. “Sorry,” he murmured to Greg.

“Bloody hell, Sherlock,” Greg hissed.

“I’m only doing as John instructed me to do, Lestrade,” Sherlock spat back.

“Well, it hurts,” Greg growled.

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied.

“That’s it,” Greg snapped as he reached out about ready to strangle Sherlock but John was able to grab his arms, pushing him down and forcing the Inspector to lay still.

“Stop it or so help me I’ll make your lives a living hell,” John snapped at them both. He heard Moriarty snicker and he turned to him. “Same goes for you.” Moriarty started to pout but said nothing more. John’s attention went back to Greg. “I need a…” John started to say but Moran beat him to it. He pulled out a knife and a lighter from his pocket.

“Here,” Moran said, holding out the two items.

John took them from the sniper’s hand. He pushed the button on the lighter and placed the blade over the flame so it would get the metal hot and sterile.

Greg’s eyes widen with fear. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re about to do.”

“The bullet didn’t go all the way through. It is lodged in and very close to the femoral artery. To close for my comfort so I need to get it out. Any slight movement could cause the bullet to shift and you could bleed out,” John explained.

Greg laid his head back down. “I told Mycroft I needed a little more excitement in my life. However, this really wasn’t what I had in mind,” he said sarcastically. He was scared but he knew John would be able to get the bullet out before something bad should happen. There was no one he trusted more than John.

“Does anyone have anything hard?” John asked out loud.

“Well…” Moriarty said suggestively but when John shot him a glare the Irishman fell silent again.

Sherlock quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal pen he used to take down notes with. A Christmas gift he’d received from John the year before. He handed over to John.

John thrust it at Greg and barked, “Open.”

Greg did as he was told and the moment his mouth opened John pushed it long ways into the Inspector’s mouth.

“Bite down,” John instructed and added, “You need to stay conscious long enough for me to get the bullet out. I need you alert, Greg.”

Greg groaned as he bit down. He was trying to mentally prepare himself but he’d never been in a situation quite like this one. He’d recalled the story John told him about how bad it felt getting shot. He would have to agree that it felt like he was being ripped apart and he wanted to tell John as much after this ordeal was over.

“Sherlock, I need for you to rip open his trousers,” John ordered.

Sherlock stared unblinking at John, unsure if he heard his friend correctly.

“Dammit, Sherlock. Do it,” John barked.

Sherlock removed the blood soaked jumper and looked at where the wound was. He had to do this in order to save Greg’s life. It was simple, really. So, why was he hesitating?

Moran stepped forward, pushing Sherlock out of the way and ripped opened Greg’s trousers, creating a large hole. John thanked Moran and when the knife was good and hot he pushed it into Greg’s leg. Greg wailed, biting down on the metal pen as thoughts of either his teeth breaking or the pen crossed his mind in a fleeting moment.

“Stay with me, Greg. Just a little bit longer,” John encouraged. He was so close that he could feel the tip of the knife hitting the metal of the bullet.

However, Greg’s body was slowly starting to shake. Beads of sweat formed across his brow and he was hot. He felt himself going into shock.

Sherlock saw all the signs and moved to cradle Greg’s head. “Stay with us, Lestrade. If you’re gone who is going to act as a buffer between me and Anderson?”

Greg let the pen fall from his mouth as he tried to laugh but it was weak. “You have John.”

Sherlock slowly looked up at John then at Moriarty. “No, I don’t think I do.”

John wanted to argue with Sherlock but he had to stay focused. “Almost got it.”

“What are you…” Greg hissed but kept his wit for just a minute longer. He had to get this out even if he was stammering hard to try. “What are you talking about, Sherlock? John loves you.”

Sherlock’s smile was sad when he looked back down at Greg. “The world is smaller than you may think it to be. There could never be room for two.”

“What makes you think there couldn’t be?” Greg questioned. “Love is infinite, Sherlock. You can care about more than one person at a time.”

“Caring is a mistake. You only end up hurt,” Sherlock replied softly.

“But if they try, isn’t that worth something?” Greg said then started to howl when he felt a sharp searing pain that made his eyes roll into the back into his head.

Sherlock checked for a pulse and thankfully Greg was still breathing though his heartbeat was faint. “He is still breathing.”

“He needs a real surgeon,” John said and if it was like an answer to a pray the door to the room opened.

In rushed Donovan and Andrea with guns in hand, readying themselves for a firefight.

“Boss,” Donovan said. “Is he?”

“He was shot. I got the bullet out but he is going into shock. We need to get him out of here,” John said.

Sherlock stood, looking over at Moran he said, “Help me lift him.”

Moran looked over at Moriarty who gave him a curt nod. He did as he was told and helped lift Greg off the floor. They walked him out with Donovan showing them the fastest way out of the building.

John slowly stood to his feet and looked at Andrea. She still had a gun aimed at Moriarty. “Lower your weapon, Andrea. He isn’t to blame for this.”

“He shot him,” Andrea said bluntly. “Mycroft isn’t happy about it.”

“Neither am I,” John stated flatly. “But, he did save Greg from actually being killed. As crazy as that sounds and if anyone should punish Moriarty for it that someone is going to be me.”

Andrea looked over at John and could tell by the look on the doctor’s face how angry he was. It made her lower the gun. “There is a second chopper waiting for you two. See that you’re on it.” She turned and left the room.

John was looking down at the amount of blood on the floor and himself. He hoped Greg would be fine. He did all he could for his friend and knew he would be in good care. Mycroft would see to it. He bent down and picked up the pen off the ground, placing it into this pocket. Now he had another problem he needed to address. John looked up at Moriarty and said, “You came into my life like an angry a tornado and destroying all in its path. Why?”

“I like blowing things?” Moriarty replied.

John sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere fast. “Why me, Jim? After everything that has happened. Why are you so fixed on me?”

“That’s easy,” Moriarty said. “There is something about you, Johnny. Something I can’t quite explain. You make me want to be a better man. You’re witting, charming, people like you, and you like to help people. Not to mention you’re sexy as hell and one hell of a good kisser.”

John tried to swallow down the lump in his throat but it didn’t want to go. It felt harder and harder to breathe. Was Moriarty actually being sincere? “You actually think I’m all those things?”

Moriarty took a step forward, completely forgetting about his sprain. He about fell to the floor but John was quick enough to catch him. Moriarty smiled as John held him against his body. The warmth was nice against the Irishman’s. “I don’t think that, Johnny. I know you are.”

“So, what do you expect me to do? I don’t want to leave Sherlock. I can’t just…” John was cut off by Moriarty’s lips suddenly crushing against his own. John was taken by surprise but he didn’t pull away. Instead he gave into the kiss. It was amazing.

After a little time past Moriarty finally pulled away and said, “Let’s not think about that now, Johnny. Right now let’s get to the chopper and possibly get me a little aid. Do you think you could suggest any good doctors?”

John snorted as he replied, “Well, I do know this one but I don’t think you can afford him.” He wrapped his arm around Moriarty’s waist and helped him walk out of the room.

“Would he take anything else for payment you think?” Moriarty inquired.

John smiled. “I’m sure you’d be able to work something out.”

Moriarty smiled wickedly and said, “Oh, Johnny. You are deviously naughty in everything way.”

“And you’re a wicked and evil man that has gotten under my skin,” John replied.

“Sounds like an interesting sitcom,” Moriarty said.

John laughed and shook his head. “You are mental.”

“And you’re cute when you’re angry,” Moriarty mused.

They made their way out of the building and over to the chopper. John helped Moriarty get in and he followed suit. The chopper lifted off the ground and John couldn’t help but look down at all the police cars. How could his world get so turned upside down just over night? It had been a very long and tiring 36 hours and even though it hadn’t been that long so much had changed in within that time.

His attention was pulled away from the window when he felt Moriarty snuggle closer to him. The Irishman laid his head on John’s shoulder and closed his eyes. John couldn’t help but smile at him. James Moriarty was the most dangerous man he’d ever known and yet he looked peaceful as he slept. Like night and day. John briefly wondered if maybe just maybe at the times the sun rose to let the moon sleep and when the moon awoke that the sun would give the moon a chance to shine, if during that time they stole a kiss before the other had to go to say goodbye. John leaned over and kissed Moriarty on his head. Moriarty hummed and snuggled in closer. That was how they remained for the rest of the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I do hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think with a comment below. More to come. I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you all enjoy this chapter. Lots more feels.

When the helicopter was within view, Moran and Sherlock were standing in front of a large mansion, waiting nearby with them was a team of paramedics and a stretcher. Sherlock looked up at the sky when he felt a single rain drop fall onto his cheek. In the distance was a rather ominous looking cloud that told him a storm was on the rise. He looked over at Moran who didn’t seem fazed. Sherlock briefly wondered about the man’s back story. He knew some of it, like how he was a colonel and how a mission had gone horribly wrong under his command. Shortly after that the sniper disappeared. It made Sherlock wonder how long it was before he became Moriarty’s lapdog.

“It was shortly after the mission,” Moran said bluntly.

“Excuse me?” Sherlock asked.

Moran kept his eyes on the helicopter as it slowly started to descent. “It was a small village outside of Afghanistan. My men and I were following up on some entail we received on how the village was a smuggling ring for semi automatics and other weaponry. I carried out the mission against my superiors protects and it lead us straight into an ambush. I lost all men but I managed to save one that they’d taken hostage. However, that soldier got shot in the shoulder and knocked unconscious.”

Sherlock stared at Moran with shock and fascination. Could the man he saved have really been John?

“I got us back safely to our base. The medics came and took the man away. When I went back to check on the man I was told they shipped him back home. I was also supposed to be shipped out but where I was going wasn’t where any man would want to be. It seemed bleak until I received a mysterious letter to meet my new employer. Naturally between that or getting the boot for my mistake I left and well I am sure the rest explains itself.”

Sherlock was silent for a moment as the helicopter finally touched down. “He’s told me the story before from his stand point. He was in and out of consciousness but never learned of how he got out of there alive.”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if it remained that way,” Moran replied softly. “The world may seem big but it brought us back together. It seems nothing is impossible.”

Sherlock stood there a moment as he watched Moran follow the paramedics over to the helicopter. It seemed that the sniper was a lot more complex than he appeared to be. Just like John. He filed that away for later and followed suit behind the others. He’d just reached the helicopter as the paramedics opened the door. They were trying to lift Moriarty from off the seat and onto the stretcher, against the Irishman’s protests.

“No,” Moriarty snapped, pushing them away. He wanted to stay with John. Not to be treated like some weak and feeble china doll that might break just by looking at it. “Johnny.”

“Jim, please calm down,” John said softly. He wanted to do all he could to help the Irishman but when he saw Sherlock walking in long strides towards them, something in him knew he wouldn’t be able to go with Moriarty. However, the criminal needed aid so he had to lie to him in order for him to get the medical attention he needed. “Let them help you. I’ll be right behind you.”

Moriarty looked up into the blonde’s blue eyes and could tell something was amiss. He felt the urge to wrap his arms around John because he wanted to stay with him. Why, he wasn’t for sure but it seemed John would catch up to him. He had to accept what John told him was truth even if he could see that he was clearly lying to him. “Promise,” Moriarty asked with his voice bearably above a whisper.

“I promise,” John replied, giving Moriarty a reassuring smile.

Moriarty studied John another moment before he nodded and let the paramedics do what they needed to do. He let them lift him up and place him down gently on the stretcher. They rolled him away but not before Moriarty gave Sherlock a hard glare.

Moran stayed close on their heels. He had to make sure no other would hurt his boss and if they tried they had to answer to him.

John made his way out of the chopper and was about ready to follow after Moriarty when Sherlock grabbed his arm, halting him. He looked back at his friend and saw the conflicting emotions on the younger man’s face. “Sherlock, I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Sherlock asked quietly, like a timid child. “Because it seems to me you’ve developed _feelings_ for the enemy.” He spat out the word feelings as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He hated the fact that he even needed to have this conversation with John. The blonde should know better by now that Moriarty was only using him and nothing more.

John’s brow furrowed. “Sherlock, stop acting like a spoiled little brat and listen to me. Jim had nothing to do with anything that happened. He didn’t hurt me. He saved my life. You were there so you know it’s the truth.”

Sherlock flinched as John called Moriarty by his first name. He wasn’t use to hearing it from the blonde’s lips and it irritated him. Not to mention the way John was talking about the criminal made it sound like he was a saint when in truth he was a cold blooded murderer. That would not do. “Regardless of what he did or did not do, John.  Moriarty is a psychopath,” Sherlock said as his voice started rising higher. “And from what I understand he got bored. That’s why he went to see you. He wanted to toy with your emotions and your feeble little mind.” He paused before he added, “He will hurt you, John. Just give it time. He can’t be trusted.”

John let Sherlock’s words sink in. What if Sherlock was right? Was Moriarty just using him? And if he was, what was the reasoning behind it? Was it to get back at Sherlock? Everything else had to do with Sherlock so why would this time be any different?

He recalled what Moriarty had said to him back in the room where his father held the Irishman captive. Moriarty revealed about how he felt towards him.

_“There is something about you, Johnny. Something I can’t quite explain. You make me want to be a better man. You’re witty, charming, people like you, and you like to help people. Not to mention you’re sexy as hell and one hell of a good kisser.”_

It made John smile and that much more determined to go check and see how the Irishman was doing. If he was anything like Sherlock was with having rude bedside managers, John feared the worst for Mycroft’s staff if he didn’t show himself to Moriarty soon. Someone could end up dead or worse. It was only right that he should go and tend to his patient.

Sherlock watched John’s face attentively as he could see the blonde was fighting against something in his mind. It was annoying that his friend still didn’t understand that Moriarty was not to be trusted. Not to mention he couldn’t stand the thought of John picking the criminal over him. He wanted John to come to the realization on his own but now there was a longing look in the shorter man’s eyes that sent a new spark of anger through Sherlock’s body. He stormed forward, taking John’s face in his hands, and forcing John’s gaze to meet his. “Stop this, John. He is only using you. He’s a wolf in sheep skin. He will use you, get bored and toss you aside because that’s what men like James Moriarty do.”

John shuddered when Sherlock grabbed hold of him. “Sherlock, please stop. You’re…you’re hurting me,” John whimpered, trying desperately now to get out of the taller man’s iron grip. It wasn’t like Sherlock at all to lose himself like that. What the hell was happening to his world?

Sherlock suddenly released John as he stumbled back with a look of bewilderment on his face. He couldn’t fathom why he was acting like a deranged madman. “John, Christ…I’m…sorry. I didn’t…” Sherlock choked on his words and instead of talking it out like he should have, he turned on his heel and ran full speed toward the large mansion.

John stood there only for a moment when the sound of thunder rolled across the darkening sky snapped him out of his baffled state. “Sherlock, stop,” John shouted as he took off after his friend but Sherlock was just a bit faster. “Sherlock, please don’t run from me.” When he entered the building Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. The taller man had disappeared. “Bollocks,” John huffed. What the hell was all that about? Why was Sherlock acting like that? He wanted to find the brunette so they could talk this out. Another clash of thunder roared making John jump just as Moran appeared at the top of a long grand staircase.

“John, the boss isn’t acting like himself. Something is wrong. He has a knife and is shouting for you,” Moran explained.

“Shit,” John huffed as he started to up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He followed Moran down the long hallway where a short little man in a lab coat was tending to a male nurse. The nurse’s arm had been sliced opened and needed stitches.

Mycroft was causally walking up to them and said, “Doctor Watson, I’d like you to meet Doctor Wilcox.”

Wilcox nodded at John and said, “Doctor,” and then turned back to aiding the injured man before him.

“Hello,” John said to Wilcox and then turned his attention back to Mycroft. “Now, we have introductions out of the way. Where is he, Mycroft?”

Wilcox pointed at the door behind John and said, “He’s in there. But, I must warn you, Doctor Watson. The patient has a high fever and is hallucinating. I need to sedate him in order to treat his injuries. He refuses to let anyone get close to him. I know I don’t need to stress the urgency of his condition or the safety of my men to you. But, if we don’t get that knife away from him there is nothing we can do until he falls unconscious from shock.”

John’s eyes widen. The fear of knowing Moriarty was so bad off scared him. He turned and headed for the door.

“John, before you go in, have you seen Sherlock?” Mycroft asked.

John gave him a sad smile. “I did when we landed. The conversation didn’t go well. He ran off from me.”

“Oh?” Mycroft replied, arching an eye brow.

“I want to talk to him but I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” John said sadly. His head was so confused with his feelings. Even his heart wasn’t for sure what it wanted. He’d never been so unsure in all his life. What he did know was he needed Sherlock in his life. “Will you talk to him for me?”

Mycroft nodded and watched as John turned and headed into the room, closing it behind him.

*****

As John walked into the room he closed the door and walked forward. He spotted Moriarty in the far corner beside the bed. The Irishman’s legs were drawn up to his chest. He was sweating and shaking. As John moved slowly towards him, he saw the knife in the Irishman’s hand. It was covered in blood.

“Jim,” John said softly as he crouched down in front of the Irishman. “Jim, its John, can you hear me?”

“J – John?” Moriarty said weakly, lifting his head slightly.

“Yes, Jim, it’s me. I’m here,” John said. He slowly reached a hand out towards Moriarty with the intent of taking the knife from the Irishman’s hand. “Jim, you’re very sick and as your doctor I need you to trust me as you said you did. Okay? I need to help you but I can’t do that until you give me the knife.”

Moriarty tried to focus his gaze on John but his eyes were glossy and his vision blurred. “You’re my doctor?” he asked puzzling.

“Yes, Jim. You came to me at the clinic, remember? You said you needed a checkup. I’m here to help you,” John said, still reaching forward with the hopes of getting the knife. “I just need you to give me the knife, okay?”

Moriarty’s gaze turned to the knife in his hand. It was like something he’d never seen before or knew how he’d gotten it. But, he started to reach out with it towards John.

“That’s good, Jim. Just give me the knife,” John encouraged. He was about to wrap his hand around the knife when the door to the room flew open and in walked Moran and Doctor Wilcox. Moriarty tried to pull the knife back but John grabbed his wrist. “Damn it, Jim. Let go of the knife!”

Moriarty was struggling to gain the upper hand over John and even in this state the Irishman was over powering him. “No,” Moriarty shouted.

Moran rushed over to aid John by grabbing onto the knife. He bent Moriarty’s fingers back which didn’t take long to pull the knife free from him grasp.

Moriarty was still trying to struggle free from John’s hold but he pulled the Irishman into his lap and wrapped his arms and legs around his body to keep him from moving around too much. “Let go,” Moriarty snarled.

“Anytime now, Wilcox,” John huffed.

Wilcox pulled a syringe from his pocket and swiftly moved over to them. Moran lifted Moriarty’s sleeve as Wilcox jabbed the needle into Moriarty’s arm.

“NO!” Moriarty screamed. He started to fight even harder but John held on.

“Jim, it’s going to be alright. I’m here. I’ve got you,” John said softly into Moriarty’s ear.

“It hurts,” Moriarty whimpered.

“I know it does,” John replied. “But, I’m here. I will help you. But, you need to calm down so I can do my job.”

With those words, Moriarty started to relax. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“That’s good, Jim. You’re doing fine,” John praised.

Moriarty smiled as he asked, “You’ll stay…with me?”

“Yes, Jim. I’ll stay here. I promise,” John replied.

Moriarty nodded as he said, “Good Johnny, my Johnny,” before falling unconscious.

John was thrown back by Moriarty declaring he belonged to him. Sure he might feel fondness or a crush towards the Irishman but wasn’t that all it was? It seemed Moriarty believed there were deeper feelings between them, which also made sense to John with the outburst Sherlock had before. The two geniuses had feelings towards him but didn’t know how to express said feelings. John didn’t really give them much of anything to go on and it seemed that was what Sherlock was trying to get through to him. “I’m such a brat,” John said out aloud to himself.

“John, you can release him,” Moran informed him.

“Christ, sorry,” John said. He unwrapped himself from Moriarty and helped Moran lift the Irishman from off the floor and onto the bed.

“I will get my tech people in to do an x-ray scan on him so we know what the overall damage is. I’ll need you two out of the room while they do that but you can come back in once their done,” Wilcox explained.

“Understood,” John said. He and Moran turned, heading out of the room and into the hallway. John leaned up against the wall as he couldn’t help but try to figure out when his feelings for the Irishman shifted from hating him to feeling something towards him.

“He’s not that bad once you get to know him,” Moran said softly, pulling out Moriarty’s phone from his pocket.

“He’s a murderer,” John pointed out. “He has killed people to keep himself from becoming bored.”

“All for reasons you wouldn’t be able to understand unless you talked to him,” Moran said. He handed John Moriarty’s phone and said, “4-8-7-1.”

John looked from the phone that was passed to him and up to Moran with the look of surprise. “That sounds like my birth date.”

Moran ignored John’s words as he said, “I’m in trusting you with his phone, John. Normally, I wouldn’t let anyone near it but he does care for you. It seems the best way is to show you. If you don’t like what you see then I will do my best to shift Jim’s feelings from you. But, know that he does care. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tried so hard to save you.”

“Yes, uh, thank you,” John stammered as he looked back down at Moriarty’s phone. John typed in the numbers and as soon as the screen lit up the back ground picture was of him sleeping in his bed at Baker Street. John smiled. He looked up but saw Moran had vanished from sight. John looked back down and clicked on Moriarty’s photo app. There were many more pictures of him in the Irishman’s phone. Some even were when he was on a case with Sherlock at a crime scene. It seemed the Irishman had been watching him for some time and it made him wonder just how long Moriarty had felt something towards him. John flipped through some more pictures and found one of him, Sherlock and Molly when they were in the lab at St. Bart’s. It was the first time they met Moriarty however it wasn’t Moriarty they met. It was Jim from IT. The picture was at an angle. It looked as though it was taken from the door, which told John that Moriarty took the photo as he left the room. John couldn’t recall Moriarty even having a phone in his hand or turning around when he left the lab. He really was a spider. Always heard but hardly ever seen. A shiver ran down John’s spine at the thought. He decided to close the photos and look through other apps on the Irishman’s phone. There was a folder marked B.U.R.N. John let his curiosity win the better of him as he opened it. But the moment he did he’d honestly wished he hadn’t. He covered his mouth with his hand as he leaned his head back against the wall. Closing his eyes he couldn’t help but let his mind run wild with what he’d just seen. He didn’t know what to do. Should he tell someone or keep it to himself. Finally, he decided he needed to find Sherlock, regardless if he wanted to talk him or not. He just needed his friend to listen to him. Because, if he didn’t then the world he knew would soon be engulfed in flames and the last thing he wanted was to pick through the ash of what was left behind.

*****

The rain let up enough that it was a light sprinkle as Sherlock sat out on a small balcony's ledge, taking a long drag off a cigarette. He was mulling over the events from the past two days over in his mind when he heard footsteps approach the door. He kept looking out over the garden – which was filled of blue bells, daffodils and rhododendrons – as he took another long drag off the cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs and blowing it into the crisp morning air.

"You know mummy would be displeased seeing you smoking," Mycroft said, stepping out onto the balcony, opening his umbrella so he wouldn’t get wet.

"She would be disappointed in you for not sticking with your diet," Sherlock retorted.

Mycroft sighed heavily as he said, "Honestly, Sherlock. All this sulking is beneath you. Why don't you just go talk to him?"

Sherlock gave Mycroft a hard glare. "Why don't you keep your big fat nose out of my business?"

Mycroft felt the urge to smoke along with Sherlock because of everything that had happened but he fought against it. Instead he said, "Because, as much as it pains me to admit, brother mine, I care about your well being."

Sherlock scoffed. "Oh, don't worry about me, dear brother, I won't do anything reckless."

"Then go talk to him," Mycroft insisted.

Sherlock drew up his legs to his chest. He wrapped one arm around his legs as he held the cigarette in the other. "Why? He will only shut me out and I wouldn't blame him for doing so after my outburst."

As Mycroft stared at his brother it reminded him of a time – that seems so long ago now – when Sherlock use to let him comfort him. He wasn’t for sure Sherlock would accept it now or turn him away for showing such emotion. Still he felt he needed to try. So, he walked over to Sherlock and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He cares about you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock didn’t pull away from Mycroft’s touch as he took another drag off his cigarette and said, “But, he loves _him_.” He spat out the word him, and hating the fact that he was talking about Moriarty. That his John had feelings for that Irishman criminal and it made him feel jealous. He wished he could just shut his emotions off but it wasn’t working. Why the hell wasn’t it working?

Mycroft sighed because it seemed he wasn’t getting through to Sherlock that John did in fact love him. He just needed to go talk to him. “You can't avoid him forever, Sherlock."

"I can try," Sherlock said bitterly, taking the finally drag off his cigarette before tossing it away.

"Just do it," Mycroft said, removing his hand. “I'll be here for you just as I was then.” He turned and started to move towards the door.

Sherlock crossed his arms, hating how his brother words irritated him. He decided to change the subject before Mycroft could say anything more on the subject. "How is Lestrade?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft stopped, turning back he said, "He's lucky to be alive."

Sherlock lowered his head. He hated himself for agreeing with Moriarty at the time but he full heartily believed they did the right thing even if it still caused pain. Sherlock shifted as he felt the need to apologize to his brother for doing something as impulsive and foolhardy as letting Greg get shot in order to save him. "I'm sor..."

"Thank you," Mycroft said softly, interrupting Sherlock. "If it wasn't for...then Gregory would be..." Mycroft let his voice drift off, unable to finish the thought of not having Greg at all. He would be forever grateful even if he couldn't say it out loud. “You must cherish each moment with the people you care for, Sherlock. One day they will no longer be there and you will regret it. Don’t sit and wallow in self pity while you still have the chance to set things right.”

Sherlock met Mycroft's gaze but something nothing. No other words needed spoken between the two. Sherlock watched Mycroft disappear from sight. He turned his gaze back out towards the garden. The sky was turning a dark shade of black which indicated the second waves of storms were moving in. He hated how Mycroft was right. This could be his only opportunity to tell John how he truly felt. How he needed the doctor in his life and that he couldn’t lose him. He hoped John felt the same towards him. But, he would never know unless he went to talk to him.

With that in mind, Sherlock stood and made his way inside, closing the door behind him. His coat was wet from sitting outside in the rain for so long but he wasn't for sure if he should stop to change clothes. Because if he did he would start thinking and lose all nerve so instead he walked out of the room to go look for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the comments keep me going.   
> Something is on the rise here. I'm getting excited.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. Sorry this took me so long to update. I've been in a lot of pain lately. So much has been going on to but I did get time for this. I am so happy for that. Thank you all and I will try to update more often.

John rushed through the halls, trying desperately to find Sherlock. He needed to tell him of the master plan that Moriarty seemed to have set in place. Because it would be a means to an untimely demise and John would not be ready to pick up the pieces.

When he turned sharply down the next corridor he abruptly rammed himself into someone. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he started to say as he took a step back but was thankful that it was Sherlock he’d bummed into. “Sherlock, I’ve been looking for you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Sherlock held up his hand to silence John as he said, “No, John. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

John lifted his hand with the phone as he said, “Yeah, Sherlock that’s…wait, what?” John asked, clearly confused. “Why would I need to apologize?”

“Well for a lot of reasons, John,” Sherlock replied honestly.

John’s brow furrowed as he lowered his hand that gripped Moriarty’s phone, “Such as what exactly?”

“For starters, you let Moriarty’s words and charm cast some ridiculous spell over you. But, I know it’s just your feeble little mind. You can’t help that you’re attracted to danger. It’s one of the many qualities I found so captivating about you, John. You love the thrill of the case, just the two of us against the rest of the world, and no one to stop us.” Sherlock started to slowly move towards John which made the doctor unconsciously take a step back until his back hit against the wall.

John quickly stuffed Moriarty’s phone into his pocket and said, “You’re a downright bastard. Do you know that?”

Sherlock took another step closer, closing what little space there was between them. “And you’re in love with _him_.”

John glared at Sherlock as he snarled, “Sherlock, I’m warning you to back off and listen to what I have to say.”

Sherlock reached out and wrapped his long slender fingers around John’s wrist. “You’re not denying it, John,” Sherlock said in a deep rumble.

“Christ, Sherlock. Stop this. Stop this right now or I’ll break every bone in your body while naming them,” John snapped, trying to pull his hands away. But Sherlock wouldn’t release him.

Sherlock leaned forward and whispered into John’s ear, “Do you want to know how I know?”

John shivered as Sherlock’s breath ghosted over his skin. “Sherlock, stop this and please just listen to me.”

Sherlock closed his eyes as he breathed in deep, letting the smell of John’s brand of shampoo fill his nose. It was heavenly. He moved back enough so he was able to lock eyes with John’s. John shifted under Sherlock’s intense gaze, unsure of what his friend was about to say to him. “Because, I took your pulse, John,” Sherlock said at last, releasing John with a look between being appalled and distaste. He turned and started to walk away.

That’s when John grabbed Sherlock and shoved him up against the wall. “You are such a stupid brilliant arrogant bastard. You think you know everything but honestly you haven’t got a fucking clue.”

Sherlock tried to struggle to free himself but John pulled Sherlock towards him and slammed him back against the wall. He realized he might have crossed a line with John. That maybe he should express why he felt the way he did. It was the only way to get John to understand why he was so furies about the whole ordeal with Moriarty. “John, I’m…”

“Shut it, Sherlock. You’re going to damn well listen to me. Do you hear me?” John snapped but continued speaking without giving Sherlock a chance to reply. “Yes, I’ve hid the fact of my sexuality preference because I was afraid.”

Sherlock noticed that John was purposely deflecting the conversation about Moriarty. He didn’t like that but what could he do? _Focus on the actually topic,_ Sherlock thought to himself. “You were afraid of your father finding out because of what happened to your sister when she came out. I presume he wasn’t happy about that so naturally you had to hide,” Sherlock said.

John sighed heavily as he slowly released his hold on Sherlock’s body. “He was an angry drunk. One that would take his frustrations of the world out on his children and if I told him I liked men…there was no telling what he would have done.” John turned his back on Sherlock, hugging himself tightly. “I can still hear Harry’s screams when he used his belt on her.” Sherlock walked up to John and gently wrapped his arms around him as he let John continue to speak without interruption. “He had me locked up in a closet so I couldn’t stop him or go for help. I screamed and cried to gain his attention but he almost beat her to death.” John couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. He started to cry. The sound of his sister’s screams, the crack of the leather belt as it hit against flesh, and then the after math of it all. “I don’t remember how long I was in that closet for when the door finally opened. It was Harry. She was standing there with her clothes half torn to pieces and blood staining her clothes. When I saw the state of her back I had her go to my room and lay on my bed face down. I fetched the first aid kit and proceeded to clean her up.” John pulled back slightly and met Sherlock’s eyes through his tear stained eyes and murmured, “That moment is when I knew I was going to be a doctor.”

Sherlock gently ran his hand through John’s hair and said fondly, “But, not just any doctor, but one who could take on any battle or challenge thrown his way, or to end all the pain or take on the means to conflict it. To become an army doctor, a soldier, and to cut down all that would hurt anyone you cared about including your own flesh and blood.”

John cried harder into Sherlock’s arms and he was thankful for his friend for being there. He wasn’t sure how he’d kept it together this long and in front of Moriarty of all people. But, somehow he managed it and was thankful. However, Sherlock always brought his emotions to the surface. After a few minutes John finally pulled back and wiped away his tears. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock replied. “Now, I wanted to ask you a few questions about your father, if I may?”

John wiped his hands on his jeans and started feel slightly overwhelmed. He never talked about his father to anyone but sense he was back in his life, perhaps Sherlock needed to know what they were up against. “What do you want to know?” he asked softly.

Sherlock was about to asked when Moran appeared.

“It seems the sedative they gave to Moriarty isn’t working. He is calling for you, John,” Moran informed them.

“Can’t you take care of it?” Sherlock huffed.

“The boss doesn’t want me,” Moran bit back. “Not to mention they could use you to create some sort of sedative that would work on him. He is pretty immune to most anything given to him but I’m sure you know a thing or two about what would work best.”

Sherlock smiled big. “I do believe I have something in mind.”

With a heavy sigh John said, “Lead the way.”

They rushed back to the room where Moriarty was being kept. Moriarty was sitting up in the bed, trying to fight off two of nurses. “Johnny,” he shouted, eyes lit up the moment he saw John come into the room.

John rushed over to the one of the male nurses and pushed him away. “Fuck off,” he growled.

The two men looked shocked but when they turned and saw Dr. Wilcox nod at them, the two men turned and left the room.

“Johnny, I don’t want them to take me. Don’t let them take me,” Moriarty begged as he gripped onto John’s jumper like his life depended on it.

John wrapped his arms around Moriarty as he lightly stroked the Irishman’s hair. “Shhh, it’s alright now, Jim. No one is going to take you anywhere. Not while I am here.”

“Good Johnny, protective Johnny, my Johnny,” Moriarty slurred, petting John’s jumper like he would a puppy.

John looked up at Sherlock who seemed to have a deep frown on his face. He turned his attention back to Moriarty. He couldn’t help but wonder what the Irishman was going on about. Who wanted to take him? He was the most dangerous man in all of London so it made no sense to him why Moriarty was so afraid. Hopefully he’d be able to ask later on but for now he softly stroked Moriarty’s hair and murmured softly, “It’s alright, Jim. No one is going to hurt you.”

“That’s because I have you,” Moriarty said cheerfully.

It was at this point Sherlock had had enough. He walked around the other side of the bed as he reached into his coat pulled a small black bag from one of the inner pockets. He opened it up, pulled out a syringe and a small vile that held a clear liquid. He placed the end of the needle into the vile and pulled back on the plunger for some of the liquid into the syringe.

“Sherlock, what are you…” John said but before he could finish his sentence Sherlock jabbed the needle into Moriarty’s I.V. Within a matter of seconds Moriarty’s eyes fluttered closed and his body went limp in John’s arms.

“What did you give him?” John asked, laying Moriarty back onto the bed.

“It is something of my own creation,” Sherlock replied happily.

John covered Moriarty back up as he studied the Irishman to make sure the sedative didn’t have any negative side effects. That would be a bit not good if something should go wrong. But, when he walked Moriarty’s chest rise and fall normally John turned his attention back to Sherlock. “Are you mad? What if that had negative effects on him?”

Sherlock looked over at Moriarty who seemed to be sleeping soundly from the sedative he created and carried around with him for obvious reasons. When he was satisfied that the Irishman was not going to be roused by sleep, Sherlock looked at John and said, “We still need to talk.”

“Sherlock, I swear to god if you…”

Sherlock took John’s hand in his own and led his friend over to the corner of the room before turning his full attention to John. “I want to go back to what we were talking about before. You said to your father that you thought he was dead. Why?”

 _Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to have a one track bloody mind,_ John thought irritatingly to himself. John shuddered when Sherlock referred the man as his father. That’s not how John saw the man and he didn’t want too. “Sherlock, do me a favor, will you.” He met Sherlock’s gaze. “Don’t call him that. Call him Winston.”

Sherlock could see how much it bothered John and said, “Sorry, John. I…”

 “It’s alright. Just from here on out,” John said.

“Understood,” Sherlock murmured. “Now, why do you believe he was supposed to be dead?”

John down casted his gaze. He rubbed the back of his head nervously because he wasn’t for sure he could go into what happened that night. “Sherlock, it was a long time ago.”

“And yet you’re reliving the memory as if it happened yesterday.” Sherlock took a step toward John. “Tell me what happened, John.”

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, swallowing the lump down in his throat. He really didn’t want to go into the whole story but there was never a good moment to relive one’s hell. “It all started late one night when he came home, drunk and enraged. Harry and I were watching the telly when he grabbed me by the hair and started to drag me across the floor. I was trying everything I could think of to free myself from his grip but nothing was working. Harry however, grabbed a bat and started to swing. He went down, blood staining the bat and the carpet.”

Sherlock was watching John intently. He could tell that John was telling the truth. He felt an urge to reach out and comfort the doctor but he remained where he was at the time being. John needed to get through this and Sherlock knew it would be easier for John if he left a little space between them.

“Harry started to freak out. Saying she didn’t mean too. That she just didn’t want him to hurt me. I calmed her down before checking his pulse and I…” John choked slightly. The memory was so vivid and overwhelming that he needed to take a minute.

Sherlock couldn’t help it. He placed a hand on John’s shoulder and said, “It’s alright, John. Take your time.”

Moriarty started to rouse out of the sound slumber, fighting the drug that coursed through his blood stream. It was Johnny’s voice that he could hear. The doctor’s voice was low but Moriarty could hear fear within the doctor’s words. Something was wrong and Irishman was doing all he could to fight against the drug that wanted to carry him back under into the blacken abyss. He needed to get to Johnny. He needed to help him. But, when he became more alert he understood why his Johnny was in so much pain and Moriarty felt something in his chest tighten. It was new and odd for the master criminal to feel something so foreign that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He wanted to go to his Johnny. He wanted to be the one to comfort him but he knew he couldn’t do that. Sherlock was there. Moriarty cursed the fact that Sherlock would always be there. So, Moriarty just laid there with his eyes closed and he listened to what Johnny was painfully explaining. Moriarty wished nothing more than to slowly torture John’s father, a thought that was starting to become more pleasant by the minute as all Moriarty could do was lie there and listen.

John closed his eyes as he took a few breathes in and out to steady his nerves. When he looked back up at Sherlock he said, “My sister and I, we did something horrible that night. Something we’ve been running away from.”

Sherlock studied John for a moment before it became clear. “He wasn’t dead, was he?”

John shook his head, down casting his gaze. “We put him the backseat of the car. Harry was driving and I was in the passenger seat. We started to drive but wasn’t for sure where we were going or what to do. That was until he woke up and started to fight for the wheel. Harry tried to regain control but he yanked the wheel hard enough which made the car run off the road and into a river. It hadn’t taken long for the car to disappear underneath the water.”

Sherlock gasped, his mind reeling of how they got out of that situation alive. “Jesus, John. I…” Sherlock didn’t even know what to say. It was unreal.

John nodded his head. “I know. We started to panic because we believed we were going to die. That was until he popped up with a tire iron that was on the back floor board. I thought he was going to hit us with it. Instead he said he was going to break open the window and for us to swim out the moment the water started to flood in. I didn’t want to leave him but Harry grabbed me the moment he broke the window and we swam. When we got to shore we looked back and the car was being taken down stream. It was dark so we couldn’t see if he ever surfaced.”

Sherlock embraced John, never interrupting his friend. He let John take his own time. That’s what he needed right now.

John placed his forehead against Sherlock’s chest. He took a deep breath in, taking in Sherlock’s smell which was strangely soothing to him. After a few more minutes of this John finally said, “After we got back home and cleaned everything up. Harry and I came up with a story, telling the police that he was drunk and threw us in the car. He ran off the road and into the river. They naturally believed us because Winston had a bad rep about his drinking and how angry he could get. They never thought another thing of it. When they finally found the car it was two weeks later and he wasn’t in it. We over heard our mother say to the police that the river must have claimed him and hoped that the fish picked him clean. That was the last we ever spoke about the man ever again.”

Sherlock could feel his heart breaking for his friend. He was just glad he was alright. That everything turned out and that he got the chance to meet the man that he held in his arms. It was with those thoughts and his own dark past that Sherlock couldn’t help but say, “Not all stories start with a happy beginning, John. Some are bathed in dark tales of pain and despair but it is within that darkness you must find that little shred of light. When you find it you must learn to follow it because that light will show you the way and lead you to a brighter tomorrow.”

John couldn’t help but smile as he hugged Sherlock tighter. “Damn you,” John whispered softly.

“What did I…”

John pulled back as he smiled up at Sherlock. “It’s hard to stay cross with you when you go and make speeches like that.”

Sherlock smiled back at him and said, “Well, I just know I found my light.”

John stared unblinking at Sherlock. He felt numb at the fact of Sherlock was talking about him. That Sherlock Holmes was talking about about him so tenderly but Sherlock doesn’t do _feeling_. Does he? Something within John started to wake up. The feelings of once upon a time he felt towards Sherlock started to rouse again. But, how could he put his heart out there. What if Sherlock doesn’t feel the same? It was the one question that he had always been so afraid to find the answer to. Because, if Sherlock didn’t feel the same then would things between them be different? Would Sherlock act differently around him? _Only one way to find out_ , John thought to himself. He took a deep breath and said, “Sherlock, there is something I’ve been meaning to say to you. I wasn’t for sure at first how to say it but I think I can say it now.”

Moriarty felt a spark of jealousy ignite him. He knew what Johnny was about to say and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not when he was so close into making Johnny his. _No, that simply would not do_ , Moriarty thought angrily. “Johnny,” Moriarty groaned as he started to try and sit up, acting as though he was struggling to do so.

John turned towards Moriarty. “Jesus, Jim.” He pulled out of Sherlock embrace and went right to Moriarty’s side.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Moriarty, knowing all too well of what the Irishman was doing. Sherlock would not stand for any of it. “John, he’s fine.”

“No I am not. You drugged me,” Moriarty pouted.

“It was only to help you sleep, Jim,” John explained.

“But, I want to stay wake and be with you,” Moriarty replied softly.

“Jim, I…” John started to say when his phone began to ring. “Sorry.” He took it out and said, “Its Harry. I need to take this.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the two arch-enemies alone together.

“I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,” Sherlock scuffled.

“My, my, whatever are you talking about?” Moriarty replied.

Sherlock leaned in really close to Moriarty, invading his personal space as he hissed, “John is mine. You aren’t allowed to have him. So back off.”

Moriarty smiled wickedly up at Sherlock and purred, “Oh, is someone jealous that I to have captivated him.”

“Stay away from him, Jim,” Sherlock warned.

“Or what?” Moriarty countered. “It’s not like you can stop me, Sherlock. Johnny will be mine and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop his feelings for me. I will see to that.”

“Then I will have no choice then to take drastic measure, won’t I?” Sherlock snarled.

“Oooo, is that a threat I hear?”

“No,” Sherlock growled. “It’s a promise.”

Just then, Mycroft appeared at the door. Both Moriarty and Sherlock turned their attention from each other toward the elder Holmes. Mycroft had a deep frown on his face. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, stepping around the bed. “What is it?”

“John…he’s gone,” Mycroft said.

“Gone,” Moriarty huffed. “What do you mean gone?”

“He took out one of my men, stole his gun and disappeared,” Mycroft informed him.

“The phone call,” Sherlock said. “It was Harry’s phone but it wasn’t Harry on the other end.”

“That means…” Moriarty whispered. “Johnny’s walking into a trap and his sister is the bait.”

“Yes, but who could have that much power?” Mycroft asked.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Sherlock said bitterly. “We need to tap into John’s cell phone and see where that last phone call originated from. It will help us to know where John is headed.”

Moriarty threw off his covers and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Sherlock snapped.

“Yes, I am,” Moriarty shot back. “Look, we can either work together or I will go on my own. This is Johnny after all so I would hope you would take the extra help that I can proved you.”

Sherlock paused for a moment before he said, “Fine. But I call the shots.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Moriarty said happily.

“Alright, Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “What’s the plan?”

Sherlock turned and started to head out the door. “We fight fire with fire.”

*****

When John walked out of the room he said, “Harry, are you alright?”

There was a pause before a man said, “Actually she is far from alright, John.”

John closed his eyes. Panic and rage feeling him as he snapped, “I swear to God if you hurt her…”

“Like you tried to hurt me, John?”

John went silent.

“Well, I mean it was a long time ago. I have been doing a lot with my life sense then. Things were going my way, John. But, then something has changed all that.”

“You felt the need for revenge after all this time?”

“Heavens no, that’s not why I’m doing this, John.”

“Then why are you doing this, Winston?”

“You know it’s not right to call your father by his first name, John.”

“I don’t give a shit what is right. Why are you doing this?” John snapped.

“Because I need you, John, as much as I hate to admit to it,” Winston said.

“What could you possibly need from me?” John growled.

“Well, I’m not going to say that over the phone. But, I do want you to come to where it all began, John. You have one hour.”

“How do I know that Harry is still alive?” John asked, hating myself for even asking it.

There was a text sound on his phone. John pulled the phone away from his ear and opened the message. It was a picture of Harry. She was bond to a chair and gagged. She had a bruise on her left side of her face and she’d been crying. Other than that she looked unhurt.

“I think a picture is worth a thousand words, don’t you think?”

“I swear to you if you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself,” John snarled.

“Hurry up, John. Don’t keep me waiting. You know how angry I get.” That’s when the line went dead.

John looked at his phone and was about to throw it when he took a long deep breath. He looked back at the room where Sherlock and Moriarty were and felt the need to tell them. But, Winston only wanted him. Why? He didn’t know. And with Harry’s life on the line he couldn’t afford to stop and think. So, he turned and started to walk down the hall. He reached the stairs and started to walk down them.

“Hello, Doctor Watson.”

John saw it was one of Mycroft’s minions. He heard Mycroft call him Agent Brooks. “Hello, Brooks,” John said as he kept walking towards the door.

Brooks jumped into his path. “Can I help you with something, Doctor?”

“Oh, no,” John replied, trying to act as if nothing was amiss. “I just needed some air.”

“Well, I have orders, Doctor, that no one leaves out the front doors.”

John had to think fast. Because at any moment someone could see he was trying to leave and that wouldn’t do. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Sir?”

John punched Brooks in the face and he went down. John found his gun and said, “Sorry, mate. But, this is life and death.” John took one last look around and when he didn’t see anyone. He rushed out the door. There was a guard patrolling the front but John got back him with ease. He got over the fence and hailed a cab.

“Where to, mate?” Asked the cabbie driver.

John sighed and gave the man the address.

“No problem, mate. Are you going there to see family?” The driver asked as the cab took off down the street.

John looked out the window. “Yes and no,” John replied back as he added, “More like facing my past demons.”

“Ah, well I hope you beat them.”

John nodded to himself as he whispered, “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. Comments are always helpful.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a joke. This really is a chapter. Lol. I do hope you enjoy this one because it answers a lot more questions I think. 
> 
> I said I wasn't feeling well and I am to have surgery. I have endometriosis. I've had 5 surgeries before this next one and I am going to be 30 this year. I've dealt with this...this will be 11 years now. It is a horrible thing that causes me pain. A lot of women suffer from it. I am hoping this next one helps because I am finally seeing a specialist for it. I have been working on other things and creating things for when I go to conventions. It is a lot of fun but right now the pain is really bad most days where I fall down because of it. I can't work right now which makes my co-workers sad because they are family to me. My surgery isn't until Nov. It is a long way off and I am trying to move it up. I'm hoping I can get it done sooner. Most days it is hard to do anything. Even writing because my pain meds make it hard to focus at times. But I am glad I got this chapter done. Thank you for keeping up with it. I have been making wizard wands, masks out of hot glue, roses out of hot glue and now I am wood burning. I will share with you some of the things I have been doing and yes Sherlock stuff I will do to. It helps me stay focused. I will not let this horrible disease and pain beat me. Like I said, this will be 11 years and I am still fighting through it. I know I can do it. I am here if anyone wants to talk.

When the cab pulled to a stop, John threw some notes at the cabbie before getting out. He watched the cab drive off and disappear from view before turning his attention to his childhood home. So many emotions and bad memories flooded his mind but he pushed those thoughts aside. He couldn’t get distracted. Not now. Not with his sister’s life on the line. Slowly, he made his way up towards the porch. He climbed the five steps and froze when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Hands where I can see them, Doc.”

John cursed at himself, forgetting about the henchmen his father had hired as he slowly lifted his hands. When Vince stepped into his line of sight but didn’t have a gun in hand. It seemed somewhere behind John it was either Pete or Rusty or possibly one of his other minions that held a gun on him. Which meant John couldn’t risk reaching for the gun that he took and placed behind his back.

“I think I should remove temptation, eh Doc?” Vince asked. He reached around John and removed the gun before John could even react.

John glared at Vince as he said, “You know there are a lot of things that don’t make sense.”

“Such as,” Vince replied, tucking the gun into his trousers.

“For one thing, how you survived that poison capsule,” John bit back.

Vince smiled. “That one’s easy, Doc. It was meant to make it look as though I died. It slowed down my heart just long enough for my men to get me out of there.”

“Your men?” John asked.

“Oh, yes. They are mine. And you know what, Doc? I know they would love to show you the same kindness you so gorgeously bestowed upon them. However, they aren’t allowed to harm you.” Vince stepped into John’s personal space, pointing the gun at the doctor’s jaw. “However, nothing says I can’t when daddy is finished with you,” Vince whispered and added, “I’m going to make you wish you killed your old man when you had the chance.”

John stared at Vince with bewilderment. He wasn’t for sure why Vince would say such things. It didn’t make any sense. Why would he talk as though he knew the pain that he’d gone through? Then something new popped into John’s head. “Jesus,” he breathed, looking squarely at Vince and asked, “Was he? Did he…did he hurt you?”

Vince smiled wickedly, causing John’s skin to crawl. Vince raised his shirt up to show a huge scar and dark red circlers that looked like they could have been from cigar burns on his stomach. “What do you think?”

John’s eyes widen with horror as he breathed, “Jesus.” He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Vince had gone through. “I didn’t know.”

“Obviously,” Vince scuffled.

“I thought…I thought he was dead,” John said, the feeling of dread overwhelming him.

Vince lowered his shirt as he hissed, “Well, it seems you were wrong in that assumption.”

John couldn’t believe it. All this time it seemed that his father became part of a new family and torment this man standing before him. John felt responsible. He looked up at Vince and asked, “What happened?”

Vince stepped closer to John. “My mother found him down by the river that passed through our backyard. She nursed him back to health even though she wasn’t in best health herself. It wasn’t long before my mother passed on, leaving me with him,” Vince snarled.

“I didn’t know. Jesus, I’m…”

Vince began to caress John’s cheek with the gun, smiling wider when John flinched. “I’m sure you can imagine the things he’d done to me and even then I’m sure it was far worse than you ever had it. I believe it’s because you’re actually he blood. Hell, isn’t that why he saved your life?”

“How did you…”

“It’s all he’s ever talked about, you know? All I’ve ever heard. It was always about you. You. You. You. You. YOU!” He shouted the last word, causing John to flinch. Vince smiled at that. “So, naturally all I’ve ever wanted to do was to meet you, John.” Vince grabbed the back of John’s hair and pulled back, pointing the gun at his throat. “If you thought what he did was hellish, John, just wait until I get my hands on you. You’re going to wish it was him again and do you want to know why? Because unlike daddy, John. I’ll never stop.” Vince released John then. “Now, it’s time for you to face you’re demons.” He waved the gun and the door and said, “Go on. Go in.”

John hesitated only for a moment. But, he realized at this point his father actually was the better alterative then Vince, who seemed to be bat shit crazy. He stepped towards the door and took a deep breath before reacting for the door knob. Slowly he turned it and pushed it open, stepping inside. What he saw then was the unthinkable. His mind couldn’t comprehend it.

Winston looked up from where he stood. “John, I’m so glad you finally decided to join us.”

John blinked, the feeling of dread crashing down on him. “Please…”

Winston tilted his head to the side. “Please?” He asked. “Please what, John?”

Tears started to form in John’s eyes as his gaze locked with his sister’s. She was bound to the chair just as he saw in the photograph and with a piece of tape over her mouth. But, what he didn’t see before was the two huge clear bottles sitting on either side of her. There were IV’s leading from the bottles and into her arms. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

“Why ever not, John?” Winston said in a calming manner. “After all, you both were going to leave me for dead, weren’t you?”

“No,” John shouted.

Winston gave him a doubtful look.

“Yes…Fuck, I don’t know,” John shouted. He ran his hand through his hair. He needed to get his thoughts straight if he was going to get his sister out of this alive. “So, what? This is your revenge then? What’s in those anyway?”

“Everclear,” Winston replied simply.

John’s eyes widened with horror. His eyes locked with Harry’s and she looked as terrified as he was. He looked back at Winston and said, “Why? Why after all these fucking years, why are you doing this now?”

“Because, it’s the only way to get you to do what I want, John,” Winston snapped.

John furrowed his brow and said, “I don’t understand. What could you possibly want from…”

“I’m dying,” Winston blurt out.

John swallowed the lump in his throat. “Dying?”

“Yes,” Winston replied. “I have a condition known as aplastic anemia.”

It was then everything clicked for John. “You need a genetic donor.”

Winston nodded as he said, “One that hasn’t been shoving poison down their throat for years like your elder sibling here has been.”

“But, how have you survived this long?” John asked.

“I’ve paid a lot into getting blood transfusions but it seems that’s not working much anymore. My doctor informed me I need a bone marrow transplant.”

John felt like he was going to be sick. “So, you’re doing all of this because you want my help in order to save your life?”

“I know. The irony isn’t lost on me,” Winston mused. “If you agree to this, John, I’ll let Harry go. I wouldn’t have a need to go after anyone you care about. It will just be you and me.”

 _And your psychotic step child Vince who wants to destroy me,_ John thought bitterly to himself. John didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go with the man. He didn’t want to help save his life after the hell he put them through all those years ago but he also couldn’t let Harry die. _Sherlock, where are you?_

“I’m waiting, John.”

“I…uh…”

Winston sighed as he reached over and turned a small knob on the one of the bottles. The clear liquid started to rush through the IV towards its waiting victim. Harry started to struggle, trying to free herself before the poison entered her bloodstream. However, it was futile. She looked over at her brother, pleading with her eyes for help.

“No, stop!” John shouted, taking a step towards them.

Vince rounded in front of John, pointing a gun as this face. “I really wouldn’t, Doc.”

John glared at him as he froze where he stood. He looked from Vince over to his sister. She looked pale, her eyes and head looked heavy and her body started to shake. He looked over at Winston and said, “I’ll do it. Fuck. I’ll do it. Please, for the love of God, STOP!”

Winston turned the knob back the opposite way, halting the liquid. He looked from John to Harry. She looked bad and something flashed across his face for only a moment but as quickly as it came it was gone.

John noticed and hoped that Winston felt just a sliver of compassion but when he saw the man’s expression turn cold, John felt his heart sink.

Winston turned to John and said, “We have a deal then?”

Tears started to well up in John’s eyes as he choked, “Yes. Please, stop.”

Winston nodded at Vince who stepped back but never lowering his weapon. John rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of Harry. He took her face between his hands and said panicky, “Harry, look at me please.”

Harry tried to open her eyes but it was too hard. She couldn’t focus her vision well enough on him. John removed the tape and said, “Harry, please say something. It’s John.”

“J – Jawwn,” Harry slurred.

“Yes, Harry. It’s me. I’m here and I’m going to get you help, okay. You just need to hang on for me. Can you do that?” John said, desperate to try and get her to focus. He didn’t want to lose her, not like this.

Harry tried to look at him but everything was a heavy fog and the room was spinning. “Sowwy…” she slurred.

“Harry, please. Look at me. You need to hang on. For me,” John said.

Harry tried shaking her head. “Lo – Losing,” she huffed as he eyes then rolled back into her head.

“HARRY,” John shouted panicky, lightly slapping her cheek to bring her back. “No, Harry. Don’t do this. Please. Come back to me.” 

That’s when he heard Winston say, “John, I want you to stand up and place your hands behind you back.”

John kept looking at his sister face. He wanted her to look at him but he knew she wouldn’t. She’d passed out. As a doctor he felt the urge to help her and ignore Winston’s demands. But, in order to save her life he knew he had to comply. So, slowly he stood to his feet and placed his hands behind him back, his eyes never wavering from Harry’s face.

Vince walked behind him and snapped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. “He’s secured, sir,” Vince said.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Winston said, walking towards the door.

“Wait, what about Harry?” John asked panicky.

“I’m sure who you deemed as your friends are on their way here now,” Winston informed him. “It won’t take them long to get her the medical care she requires.”  

John looked from Winston to Harry. He wasn’t for sure if that statement was true and even if it were he felt the need to try and stall. However, when Winston pointed a gun at Harry’s head the reality of the situation came crashing down on John. He looked at the older man and said, “You’d kill your own daughter?”

“By genetics we are bound but I think we both know you two were never _my_ family,” Winston snarled, his nose wrinkling when he said the word family. “Now, get moving or I’ll be sure to kill your friends the moment they step foot through that door.”

John didn’t want anyone to die on his behalf. With one last lingering look at his sister, John turned and headed out the door. Once outside John looked over across the street and saw a black town car sitting next to the curb. John tried not to smile as he was shoved into the back of a black van that had no windows. When the door closed he felt something sharp pierce his neck and something hot burning around it. His vision started to blur.

“Time to go nighty night, Doc,” Vince purred into his ear. “You know as you drift off to sleep I want you to think about this. Once he’s done with you, you’re going to be all mine. That’s right, Doc. I’m going to take you and do things to you. Unspeakable things that will be added to those nightmares you have.”

John felt Vince lick the side of his face. His bodied involuntary shuddered as a tear ran down his cheek.

“Mmmm, someone likes the idea. Well, just remember this, the next time you wake up it will be all over for you. The surgery will have been done and he will give you to me. I’ve waited for so long, John. Now, it’s time I’m rewarded.”

John was able to turn his face slightly away from Vince, the thought sickening to him. It made John briefly wondered what his father was actually capable of. He was trying to also fight the drug. If going to sleep meant he’d wake up in the hands of this psychopath then he wanted to do all he could to remain awake.

Vince grabbed hold of John’s chin and turned his face back towards him. He gently started to caress John’s cheek as he said, “You can try to fight it, John, but in the end the drug will win out. It always does.” He leaned down and lingered his lips above John’s. “For luck.” He pressed his lips to John’s. It was soft and only lasted for seconds but John felt like he wanted to be sick. When Vince pulled back enough to look into John’s eyes, he could see John’s eyes were growing heavy. “God, what I wouldn’t do to you while you’re unconscious.”

John tried to shake his head but the movement was barely there. However, it was enough that Vince picked up on it.

“Oh don’t worry, John. I wouldn’t do that to you while passed out. Where’s the fun in that?” Vince said mockingly. “I want to while you’re fully awake and fighting me, or at least trying to. It will be hard while you’re bound to my bed.”

John’s eyes slowly closed, listening to the sickening sweet voice of Vince whispering things into his ear of what he was going to do to him after he awoke. He was terrified and only hoped that he was going to be rescued, otherwise he’s be waking up to a never ending nightmare.

*****

“Why can’t I just go in?” Moran asked, feeling irritated he was even following orders from this man.

“Look, you wanted to join me and I let you only if you followed my command,” Greg bit back. “We have to wait.”

“You know as well as I do that _they_ aren’t going to like this,” Moran muttered.

Greg rolled his eyes, knowing very well who he was referring to. “I don’t care about that. I’m not going to have you go all suicidal when we are clearly out numbered. We have to be smart about this.”

It was Moran’s turn to roll his eyes. “Alright, Inspector. You’re calling the shots. What do you want me to…”

That’s when they saw Winston, Vince and John walk out of the house. John’s hands were cuffed behind his back and he was shoved into the back of a waiting van.

“I want you to follow the van,” Greg said.

“What about the girl?” Moran asked, switching on the car.

Greg pulled out his phone and started to text Sherlock. “You let me deal with that.”

_They were at John’s childhood home with Winston. They are leaving now. His sister is not with them. Send a medical team to location. Moran and I are following black van and will give you location when arrive. You can be pissed at me later. – Greg_

“Alright, that’s done,” Greg said, placing his phone in his pocket. They kept a good distance from the van but making sure to never lose sight.

“You’re not the only one who’s going to feel their wrath,” Moran informed him, trying to attempt small talk.

“I can handle Sherlock and even Mycroft but you work for Moriarty. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must be like,” Greg replied.

“It’s not as bad as most think,” Moran said, making a right then a left, doing his best to not lose sight of the van.

“He kills people. How is that not bad? I’m sure you’ve done your fair share of bad things in your time,” Greg said, eye balling the man.

Moran smirked, stealing a sideways glance at Greg as he said, “I do believe you are trying to coax some form of confession out of me, Inspector.”

Greg smiled as she shrugged his shoulders. “Just trying to make conversation, Sebastian was it?”

“Uh – huh,” Moran replied, not trying to hide away his grin. “Well, Jim might be crazy but at least he’s never lied to me. And you can call be Seb.”

Greg nodded. “Greg. And Sherlock has never lied to me. He just has an issue revealing everything he knows.”

“I’m not talking about Sherlock,” Moran huffed.

It took Greg a moment before he realized who Moran was referring to. “Ah, I see. Mycroft has to lie at times. It’s part of his job.”

“And you are part of his life. If he can’t tell you things, what’s the point of trying to make anything work? Expecially with a man like Mycroft,” Moran inquired.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Greg said.

“Just as you don’t know Jim as I do,” Moran informed him.

Greg sighed. “I see your point.”

When the van pulled into a big abandon warehouse, Moran stopped just out of sight. “I’m going to go get a better view.” He was about to get out when Greg grabbed hold of him.

“No, we wait for back up,” Greg insisted.

“If we wait then something bad may happen to John,” Moran said.

“Which means something bad might happen to you. I can’t risk that,” Greg said, pulling out his phone.

“Look, between not going in and seeing if I can get John out or waiting and feeling not only Jim’s wrath but Holmes's wrath as well, I would rather take on the gunmen if that’s all the same to you,” Moran huffed out.

Greg couldn’t argue with that. “I just…fuck, if I hadn’t have gotten shot I could help.”

“Well, send off a message to Sherlock where we are and then I can help you over to the building,” Moran said.

“Wouldn’t I just be dead weight?” Greg asked.

“You are another set of eyes along with putting a gun in your hand which makes you a valuable asset to me,” Moran explained.

“Right, two guns are better than one,” Greg said.

“Something like that, yeah,” Moran said. “Now, send off a text and let’s go see what we are up against.”

Greg shot off a text, ignoring all the other ones he saw from Sherlock and did not even open the messages from Mycroft as he got out of the car, wrapped an arm around Moran’s neck and walked with the man over to the building. They found a side door that only had one lock. It was easy enough for Moran to break so they could enter without being seen.

“What now?” Greg asked.

Moran handed Greg a gun that had a silencer. He pulled out one for himself. “We stay as quiet as possible until we find John. Shoot when you have an opening.”

“Got it,” Greg replied softly as they started to walk the dark damp halls. Greg didn’t know what they would find once they found John again. He just hoped his friend was alright and that he wouldn’t be in too much trouble once Mycroft catching up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story. Glad you enjoyed it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for continuing to follow my work. It has been a rough road but I am doing better.  
> Its been 5 weeks sense the surgery and this is the best I've felt in almost 11 years. From the laser lap surgery he did it will take about 3 months to fully heal from what he did. Stage 1 Endo and 50 different spots he removed. I also had acute appendicitis which was also causing me just as much pain as the Endo.   
> He had a long waiting list but I kept calling and calling because my surgery was set for Nov 1 which knowing now about my appendix I wouldn't have made it.   
> Dr. Yeung is the man you need to see. His wife had Endo so he puts all his time into helping women with Endo.   
> The only way to do surgery is to cut it out. Burning it doesn't do it. With he research if the doctor burn Endo out there is a 65% chance of it returning within 2 years...of course mine did.   
> He talked about how Endo is like a black head. You need to go down to it core and cut it out until there is only clean tissue below. He has a 95% rate of happy patients and I can tell you I'm one of them.  
> So please my Endo sisters look into finding an Endo specialist like Dr. Young. Someone who will laser it out and not burn it. It is only putting a band-aid over a wound that requires stitches.  
> It took me almost 11 years with 6 stomach surgeries ( I had my gallbladder removed, a partial hysterectomy with my uterus, cervix and Fallopian tubes were removed and my appendix now being removed) and taking so many meds over the years that I don't have to take anymore.   
> I know that little voice will always be at the back of my mind wondering if it will come back but right now I don't really care because I am feeling a lot better.   
> So from the bottom of my heart, I say thank you.

 

Anthea was behind the wheel of a black town car with Sherlock, Mycroft and Moriarty sitting in the back seat. Moriarty sat backwards and across from the Holmes brothers so they could keep an eye on the criminal mastermind.

 

“Do we have any idea where Johnny boy might have gone?” Moriarty asked.

 

“Well, I’m sure if anyone would know, it’s you,” Sherlock scoffed, his eyes never wavering from his phone as his fingers moved like lighting over the buttons.

 

Moriarty smiled in amusement. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

 

Sherlock stopped, glaring up at Moriarty as he snapped, “I’m not jealous.”

 

“Yes you are,” Moriarty fired back in a sing song manner. “You’re jealous because I got to kiss Johnny boy before you got too.”

 

“Don’t call him that,” Sherlock growled. “His name is John.”

 

“I can call him whatever I want. He is my boy toy after all,” Moriarty said, grinning from ear to ear.

 

Sherlock shot forward, wrapping his hands around the criminal’s throat. He was sick and tired of Moriarty believing that he had a chance with John. “He isn’t yours to claim,” Sherlock barked, squeezing tighter.

 

Mycroft shot forward, grabbing hold of Sherlock’s arm, pulling as hard as he could. But, he wasn’t strong enough to pull his brother away. He needed to try and reason with him. “Sherlock, you need to stop this. As much as I distaste him, we need him.”

 

“No, we don’t,” Sherlock snarled.

 

“I beg to differ,” Moriarty croaked out.

 

It was then that Sherlock’s phone chimed. He didn’t want to release Moriarty. He wasn’t going to kill the criminal either. At the very least he wanted to force him to pass out. But, the thought of the message being important Sherlock finally released him. “This isn’t over,” Sherlock growled, sitting back in his seat.

 

Moriarty was choking and gasping for air, rubbing the soreness out of his neck. “I should hope not,” Moriarty said roughly, still smiling.

 

Sherlock turned his attention back to his phone. He didn’t realize he’d made any sort of noise until he saw the other two staring at him. But, his eyes went right back to the words on the screen. There were so many rare occasions when anyone could surprise him. Reading the words a four, fifth and even a tenth time, never changing, still continued to baffle him.

 

Mycroft reached out his hand and lightly grabbed onto Sherlock’s arm. Something had Sherlock at a loss for words and Mycroft wanted to know what that was. The younger Holmes didn’t look pleased in the least, gripping his phone in a death like grip as Mycroft asked, “Sherlock, what is it?”

 

Sherlock finally looked back up from his phone at his brother. He looked slightly puzzled as he said, “I know where John was and more importantly, I’ll be receiving the information of where he’ll end up.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Moriarty asked, moving back around to the other side of the table.

 

Sherlock looked pointed at him and said, “I just received a text message from Lestrade stating that John just left with his father from their family home.”

 

Mycroft and Moriarty’s eyes widened in shocked surprise as Mycroft growled, “I’m going to kill him.” Mycroft started to text furiously on his phone.

 

Moriarty smiled and said to Mycroft, “Seems your pet broke off his leash.”

 

“I wouldn’t gloat too much, Jim,” Sherlock said.

 

“I can all I want. Neither one of you can keep your pets…” Moriarty started to say but Sherlock interrupted him.

 

“Moran is with him,” Sherlock said, smiling.

 

Moriarty’s expression twisted into anger. “I’m going to kill him.” Moriarty followed suit to Mycroft and began to text furiously on his phone.

 

Sherlock went back to Lestrade’s message and noted the fact a medical team needed to be sent to the address. He didn’t think Mycroft’s team to handle John’s sister with care so he texted the one person he knew her could trust that would.

 

_I need you to go to this address, take a medical team with you, and take care of John’s sister. I’m sure she is in a bad way. Please hurry. – SH_

 

Sherlock wasn’t expecting the reply that quickly. It pleased him that she was so punctual.

 

_I will. Is John alright? – MH_

 

Sherlock wasn’t for sure how to answer that but he also knew he couldn’t lie to Molly. Like John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, Molly was one of the very few that would see right through Sherlock’s lies. He didn’t know what physical state John was in or even his metal state. What Sherlock did know was he went to go say his sister’s life by leaving with their father. Why? Why did John’s father need him? Sherlock still couldn’t put his finger on it which infuriated him.

 

_Sherlock? Is everything alright? – MH_

 

Sherlock’s text tone brought him back out of the thoughts that were weighing heavy on his mind and back to the one question he had no answer for.

 

_Just make sure John’s sister is tended to. – SH_

 

Sherlock lowered his phone to look at the other two in the car. Both Mycroft and Moriarty were still texting violently. It made Sherlock smile a bit and then the smile faded slowly with the thought of what could be happening to John at that moment. He didn’t want anything to happen to John and if something did he’d never be able to forgive himself for letting Moriarty distract him while John had gotten that phone call. However, if it wasn’t for Moriarty being at John’s clinic in the first place, they would have taken John without anyone knowing about it. It was Moriarty who phoned the police and it was Moriarty who shot the plane away to make sure John stayed.

 

This was also the same damn Moriarty who helped criminals get away with crimes and who murdered people for pure enjoyment by strapping them in bomb vest – John being one of those unlucky five. Sherlock will never forget who he was dealing with. He couldn’t. Moriarty was his arch-nemesis in every aspect of his life. Including the fact that Moriarty was trying to take John away from him. Sherlock swore to fight with his very last breath to make sure that would never happen.

 

“Damnit, Seb, answer me or so help me…” Moriarty growled, his fingers still angrily pounding over the keys.

 

“He’s not going to answer you,” Sherlock said.

 

Moriarty looked up at Sherlock, narrowing his eyes at him as he snarled, “He better if he knows what’s good for him.”

 

Sherlock shook his head. “He is in combat mode, Jim. He and Lestrade both are. They need stealth in order to extract their target.”

 

Mycroft’s eyes widen with shock. “You don’t mean…”

 

Sherlock nodded. “Indeed, I do. They are going to try and rescue John on their own.”

 

“But, Greg. He’s…” Mycroft let his voice trail off. Greg had been shot. He was no use to anyone being injured. “We need to find out where they have gone.”

 

It was at that moment Sherlock’s phone chimed. Sherlock looked down and then back up and Mycroft. “Ask and you shall receive.” Sherlock relayed the address to Anthea who nodded, taking a sharp left then right.

 

Sherlock couldn’t help but wonder what Moran and Lestrade were walking into without backup. He just hoped they would get there in time before something bad should happen to not just them but also to John.

 

*****

 

The warehouse was poorly lit as Moran helped Greg maneuver around stacks of creates and barrels. It was rough on Greg, hobbling along as the pain felt like fire as it shot up into his groin.

 

"We need to stop," Greg whispered, trying his hardest to not let the pain show on his face.

 

"We're almost there," Moran muttered back.

 

Sure enough there was an opening between creates so they could peer out over what was happening without being seen.

 

Greg couldn't help the breath that hitched in throat. Moran covered Greg's mouth to keep him quiet. When Moran was sure no one heard Greg, he removed him hand. "Stay focus," he whispered.

 

Greg nodded even though what he saw before him terrified him to no end. Set up in the middle of the room was four walls of plastic curtains. There were two men and two women in white lab coats and surgical mask hangs down around their necks. They looked as if they were preparing for surgery."What the fuck is going on?" Greg whispered, not realizing he said it aloud.

 

"Seems they are prepping for surgery," Moran whispered back.

 

"But, why?"

 

It was then that they saw two men appear that Greg recognized from escorting John out of the home. Greg tried his hardest to not make a sound at the sight of the two men pushing a bed that held an unconscious John. Greg was mortified at what they were about to do to his friend and wanted more than anything to storm forward and stop them.

 

"Do you have a plan, Greg?"

 

Greg turned and looked at Moran who looked generally concerned. It seemed odd in away, almost foreign because of whom Moran was. The man was a sniper, a bomber, and a killer and yet he looked so human at this moment, it was causing conflicting emotions in Greg. He was actually starting to like the guy even though they came from two different worlds. The thought was almost laughable. He had to remind himself who Moran worked for and thinking a friendship could be built between them was more than impossible. 

Greg pushed all thoughts concerning Moran aside to focus on why they were here in the first place. John. “I have no idea. We seemed to be out gunned here and if something should go wrong John’s out cold. There is no telling what could happen.”

 

“But, there is no telling what could happen to John if they cut him open. Greg, we need to act before it’s too late or John might die regardless if we wait it out.”

 

Greg hated how right Moran was but he also worried about him and Moran getting shot or worse, killed. However, he knew this would only end in a firefight. “Christ, this is so fucked up.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Moran shot back. “I know it seems bleak but I’ve been in worst situations before.”

 

Greg gave him a pointed look.

 

“I’m serious,” Moran replied, smirking. “This is nothing compared to…” Moran was cut off when they heard a man’s voice say, “Let’s get on with this.” They both turned and saw John’s father being pushed in a wheelchair over to the plastic.

 

That’s when it clicked for Greg. “His father needs a transplant of some sort for a family member.”

 

“So, that’s what this is about,” Moran grumbled. “He needs an organ from John in order to live? What a prick. I should have shot him back at the room when he held you. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up shot and we wouldn’t have ended up here. Well, I’ll know for next time.”

 

Greg couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. It was becoming harder not to like the man. He wanted to comment further on that but filed away for a later time. Right now they needed to get back to the task at hand. “You’re right, Seb. We need to act now before they cut John open.”

 

Moran began to look around. He saw a melt staircase and pointed to it as he turned to Greg and asked, “Do you think you can manage?”

 

Greg nodded. “I’ll do it for John.”

 

Moran smiled at him as he placed his arm around Greg’s back and began to help him over to the staircase. “You really like him, don’t ya, Inspector.”

 

“Who? John?” Moran nodded. “Yes, I like John,” Greg said, grabbing hold of the railing and pulling himself up as he also continued to use Moran for support. “He is a good man. As good as they come.”

 

“So are you,” Moran blurt out, even though he didn’t mean too.

 

Greg blushed. “Well, John has done so much good and…”

 

Moran got them up the stairs and behind another pile of creates so they wouldn’t be seen. “Greg, you are a copper. You fight the bad guys every day just as much as John. For a long time it was just a different battle field. So, don’t sell yourself sort. I should know.”

 

Greg was taken back by Moran’s words. “Well, I…thank you, Seb.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Moran turned away from him then to look out over where the other gunmen stood.

 

Greg was still staring at Moran, looking the man up and down. The sniper was just as wild and unpredictable as Moriarty could be but there was a softer side to the madman. One that Greg could learn to like and maybe go out to the local pub for a pint or two. He could even see John joining them and then all three of them would really have something to talk about. Moran working for Moriarty, Greg was sure the man had stories. John would talk about Sherlock and Greg would talk about Mycroft. They would never be bored, that’s for sure.

 

When Moran turned back to Greg he was stunned to find the Inspector staring at him like that. Like he was a puzzle but not how Moriarty would usually stare at him. This seemed more curious then annoyed. Moran stepped closer to Greg, invading his personal space and said, “We can grab a pint after this if you like.”

 

“I…uh…” Greg was fumbling over this words because he wasn’t expecting Moran to read him like Mycroft could. “How did you…”

 

“When you’re around someone like Moriarty for as long as I’ve been for you do tend to pick up a thing or two. I’m sure you and Mycroft have…”

 

“I think we need to focus more on getting John out.”

 

Moran’s eyes raised at how fast Greg was deflecting the subject of him and Mycroft. It enticed even more questions that Moran wanted to ask. That perhaps Moran might actually have a chance to ask Greg out more than just a pint at his local haunt. He filed that away for later and turned his attention back to see a man a woman in lab coats enter the plastic room. “It seems its now or never, Inspector.”

 

Moran moved to the other side of the creates after setting up Greg to the point where he could fire without getting shot. He wasn’t too concerned for himself. He gave Greg a nod that he was ready.

 

Greg nodded that he understood before he shouted, “This is Inspector Gregory Lestrade of the New Scottland Yard. Stop what you are doing or…”

 

The men on the floor began to fire. Moran took them out with the cleanest headshot he’d ever seen. He was very impressed and in more ways than one.

 

“This is your last chance to stop or…”

 

Greg was cut off by another gunshot. However it didn’t come from them. He saw another guard fall dead to the ground. He looked over at Moran who looked just as confused until Sherlock, Mycroft and Moriarty stepped into view. All three held a gun in hand.

 

“You have a lot to answer for young man,” Moriarty growled up at Moran. “Daddy isn’t happy.”

 

“And you. We need to have a long discussion about your actions,” Mycroft told Greg.

 

Moran walked over to Greg and helped him down the staircase. “Well, if we didn’t act fast then we wouldn’t have found John,” Greg said, pointing towards the plastic.

 

They turned to see Sherlock rolling out the bed that John laid unconscious on. It pleased Greg and Moran to see that they didn’t have time to cut John open.

 

A woman in a lab coat rolled on John’s father who was still in the wheelchair. They all looked to the man who seemed like he was knocking on deaths door.

 

“It seems I was mistaken,” Winston said.

 

“About what?” Sherlock asked, stepping closer to the man.

 

Winston looked up at Sherlock and forced a smile at him. “I didn’t think John could ever find someone to care for him as much as you do.” He looked over at Greg, Moran and Moriarty. “As much as you all do. I was wrong.”

 

“That’s because he isn’t like you,” Sherlock spat out. “Unlike you, he is a good man with a caring heart.”

 

Winston laughed and shook his head. “Even Eve took a bit of the forbidden fruit and ended up exiled from praised. All because a little snake told her it was okay.” He looked from Sherlock towards Moriarty then back to Sherlock. “He had a taste of what it was like. He is drawn to the fire like a moth to the flame. What I suggest you do. Take control of the fire so you don’t get burned.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

Winston shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. It could be that reguardless of what I’ve done, John is still my blood.”

 

“How could you even make me think you care after everything you’ve done?” Sherlock snapped.

 

“Who said I cared?” Winston said. “I’m only stating what I’ve seen. Besides, caring isn’t an advantage now, is it?”

 

Sherlock glared at him. “And yet here we are stopping you from cutting John open so what, you could live?”

 

“It was foolish of me to think I could actually make this happen. Still, it was worth it.”

 

“What was worth it?” Sherlock ask Winston.

 

Winston looked over at the sleeping form of his son. Something tightened in his chest as he felt all sorts of emotions flood his mind. Guilt, regret, pain, loss and all because he was an angry drunk. “Seeing him again and actually…” he let his words trail off as he continued to stared for another moment before turning his attention back to Sherlock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone and held it out for Sherlock to take. “I don’t know if he will take it but everything is on this phone. It will help him to understand.”

 

Sherlock took the phone from Winston and was about to say something more when Winston continued to speak. “Take good care of him, Sherlock Holmes. He is worth more than the crown jewels of London.” And with that, Winston pulled out a gun from behind him and before Sherlock could stop him Winston placed the gun in his mouth and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Sorry it took me so long but sometimes pain can over take and control. I'm just happy I'm doing better.   
> I've been also do a lot of wood burning as of late. It has helped distract me from the pain but now it has really taken off and a lot of people love my work in that area too. I enjoy it a lot. 
> 
> If you want to look at any of my wood burning stuff the link below is to my hubby and my page. We create a lot of stuff together. I do have some Sherlock wood burns on there too. I'll be doing more and yes I sell them.   
> https://www.facebook.com/BetterTogetherCreations/

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed working on this. I promise I will get back to the other stories but my brain needed something fresh to help me get back into it. Thank for you reading. Let me know what you think.


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